


Parfait

by chrysalisdreams



Category: Frasier (TV), Frozen (2013), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aurora cameo, Bisexuality, Cinderella cameo, Con Artists, Deception, Esmeralda cameo, F/F, F/M, Heterosexuality, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Safer Sex, Seattle landmarks, Sleepwalking, Virginity, ethical non-monogamy, no magic, pansexuality, they/them pronoun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 58,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrysalisdreams/pseuds/chrysalisdreams
Summary: Flynn and Hans are half-brothers, working confidence schemes in modern-day Seattle. Elsa and Anna Arendelle are heiresses, trying to navigate a rocky road of sisterhood. A chance meeting between Flynn and Elsa sparks opportunity, then romance, layered in half-truths and concealed motivations.Enter Rapunzel, a sunny live-in physical therapist for Anna. Rapunzel topples their tower of illusions, forcing Elsa and Flynn to confront their true selves. When Elsa falls for Rapunzel, and Rapunzel returns the feeling while falling for Flynn, and Elsa and Flynn realize they still love each other and want to stay together, they discover a love dynamic they didn’t know was possible.Tangled/Frozen centric, chock-full of Frasier Easter Eggs. Maris/Niles/Daphne in the form of Elsa/Flynn/Rapunzel. Hans/Anna at first, later Kristoff/Anna.





	1. Layer 1: Confectionary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Otherwise_Uncolonized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otherwise_Uncolonized/gifts).



Parfait

The Cast

Flynn Rider (Eugene Fitzherbert), a thief, as Niles Crane, psychologist who likes the finer things in life

Hans, prince of Southern Isles and sociopathic liar, as Frasier Crane, arrogant older brother of Niles, who liked the finer things in life first (and isn't he entitled to them?)

Elsa of Arendelle, snow queen, as Maris Crane, wife of Niles Crane

Rapunzel, lost princess with magic hair, as Daphne Moon, physical therapist who is "a little bit psychic"

Anna of Arendelle, adorkable sister of Elsa, in the role of Martin Crane... and Roz Doyle

Mother Gothel (vain, selfish, and cruel) as Frasier's agent Bebe Glazer (the devil herself)

and Pascal in the role Eddie the dog

The Crossover

This is a retelling of _Frasier,_ without telling it straight. (See what I did there?) The setting, some scenarios, and the relationships are inspired by weeks of binge-watching the TV sitcom _Frasier_ , during which I developed a sympathy for the unseen Maris, regardless of how hard I was ‘shipping Niles/Daphne. Enter my OT3: Flynn/Elsa/Rapunzel, or Elsa/Eugene/Rapunzel… it's not linear. Polyamory may not always be the answer, but when it is:

_Have you ever met a person, you say, "Let's get some parfait," they say, "Hell no, I don't like no parfait."? Parfaits are delicious! Parfait's gotta be the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet! ~_ Donkey

* * *

 

 

**Layer 1: Confectionary**

"Confidence Men"

Flynn slid into the polished mahogany chair at Cafe Nervosa. "My usual," he instructed a passing waiter, then cast a weary frown across the table toward his half-brother Hans. "You won't believe the day I've had," he started. He picked a tabby striped hair off his cuff with an expression alarm.

Hans sipped his cappuccino. "Didn't you have a banquet?" he asked.

"Some banquet. It was a birthday party for her cat. A surprise birthday party, complete with jugglers, mimes, and karaoke. I made it through a duet of "Endless Love" but bolted for the French doors when the DJ queued up the Hits of Broadway medley. I almost made it out."

Hans smirked, obviously amused at Flynn's suffering. "I had no idea you sang, Eugene."

"Flynn."

"Right."

"I don't sing! You've never experienced pain until you've heard a middle-aged aristocrat yowel "All I Ask of You" with a feline." Crossing his arms across his chest, he leaned back. "I had no idea she was a cat person."

"Not to mention an Andrew Lloyd Webber enthusiast," Hans supplied. "Where did you find this one?"

"Cartier. Shopping for a diamond tennis bracelet."

"Let me guess. A birthday gift?"

"Duchess loved her new collar," Flynn answered.

"Well, lucky for us that my prospects are looking brighter than yours, hmm?"

"Oh?"

"I ran into the cutest little accident-prone crumpet today, down on the waterfront. Innocently sparkling eyes, blushing cheeks... she's the picture of debutant naivete."

"You're positively gloating, Hans."

"She's as unspoiled as North Mountain snow before opening day on the ski slopes. Really remarkable, considering the mountain of old money inheritance she has behind her. Poor, sweet orphan Anna."

Flynn's grin faded. "She's an orphan?" he asked.

"Now, don't pull out that tattered rag of conscience," Hans growled. "Unlike you, she spent a pampered childhood in marble halls, not a dingy group home. Her parents died in a maritime accident when she was fifteen." He quickly recomposed himself with a charming smile. He wasn't wasting it on Flynn; an attractive waitress had arrived with Flynn's cinnamon-dusted latte.

The waitress giggled flirtatiously. After sliding the check onto the table, she scurried away. Hans and Flynn both followed her with their gazes until she moved behind the cafe counter. They simultaneously lifted their mugs and drank their hot drinks.

“Too much cinnamon,” Flynn sighed.

Hans chuckled. “It’s not your day, is it?”

Flynn glared. Then he relaxed. “It wasn’t a total loss. She has good taste in art, something I observed as I mentally mapped the mansion’s floorplan.”

“Once a thief, always a thief,” Hans said. “Stop wasting your energy on the small stuff, when there are bigger prizes out there!”

“I could be happy with a small fortune. Your way means trading your freedom to be a kept man. I don’t know if marriage is for me. I like to keep my options open.” His eyes strayed to the waitress again.

“Flynn, I’m shocked. You don’t think I plan to be faithful, do you? I’ll have the little princess wrapped around my finger soon enough, and once we’re married, everything she has is mine.

"Best of all," Hans continued in a lowered voice, "it's a miracle Anna survived her childhood. She's an invalid. There was some kind of sledding accident when she was a wee toddler, slipped on her silver spoon or something and knocked her head. Still, she loves wild sports and dangerous adventuring." He leaned in. "The chance of a terminal accident at any time is a high possibility." He leaned back in his chair. "I just hope the poor dear finds love before an untimely death. She deserves a husband, to mourn her when she's gone."

"Lucky she caught your eye," Flynn commented.

"Lucky I caught her before she rollerskated over the edge of the pier," Hans replied. He sighed like smitten suitor, quite believably. "We were both swept off our feet. I plan to revisit the horizontal with her on our date this weekend." He chuckled softly.

"Well, that sounds great," Flynn said while showing more interest in putting on his coat than in Hans's plans of conquest. "And since things are going so well for you, I'll let you get this one." He pushed the bill for his espresso drink toward Hans. "Leave the barista a nice tip," he said, then departed before Hans could call him back.

* * *

 


	2. Layer 2: Glacé

“The Heiress”

She banged on the electric gate, her little white hands clenched around a tire iron. Determination radiated from her Roger Vivier sin heels up to the tips of her Christian Louboutin lacquered nails. Flynn’s eyes paused on the elegant curve of her spine before moving on up to appraise the Tolkowsky diamond pins twinkling in her platinum blonde coronet.

Even the tire iron was surely Mercedes Benz, to go with the SL-Class luxury convertible automobile idling on the driveway with its driver door open. Not that anyone who owned a Benz would ever change her own tires.

The sight of her made something more than avarice sing in Flynn’s heart. He slowed further and turned in to park his more modest Mercedes -- leased, on someone else’s shiny dime -- behind hers. She didn’t turn around until he got out of the sedan and called out to her. When she acknowledged his existence, he jogged up to her side.

“Can I help?” he offered. When he reached to take the tire iron from her -- if she would relinquish it -- his fingers brushed hers. A spark arced between their hands. 

She gasped at the touch. The gate rolled open.

Flynn rubbed his fingertips to get the feeling back in them. “It must be a sign.” He hoped to put her at ease.

“It must be,” she murmured. She looked at the open way, then circled back to her car. “Thank you,” she said, pausing before sliding down into the driver’s seat. When she delayed pulling her leg in, her skirt pulled up to reveal the flexion of her ankle.

Flynn stood by her open car door. “Anytime,” he said. She was about to get away from him. His ability to think already had. “Say,” he interjected, desperate to say something, anything, to prevent her from melting away, “that tire iron is amusing.”

“Isn’t it?” she agreed. “A little joke from the commodore when I first learned to drive.”

“Woah, hey. You’re ‘once, twice, three times a lady’,” he quoted the Commodores song. He then wished himself dead.

“My father, the commodore,” she clarified. “My late father, that is.”

He really wished himself dead. “I’m so sorry,” he consoled. It now registered on him that she was entirely dressed in somber black. She was breathtaking, but that much matt black didn’t suit her. Her complexion was already so fair that she looked bloodless.

“Thank you,” she said graciously. “And again, thank you for coming to my aide. It was a little embarrassing. I could have simply called up to the house.” She studied him with eyes that were and intense, rare blue. Glossed lips parted, she questioned his presence. “I thought I was familiar with all my neighbors,” she said.

“I was only driving by,” Flynn clarified. “On my way from my practice.” He had been casing the rich houses, in fact, on the streets encircling the cat-mansion. “Uh, where are my manners?” He slipped a card out of his inner pocket and extended it. “Dr. Flynn Rider. I practice psychology.”

She took it from him, glancing only a moment before lowering her hand into her lap. “I’m Elsa Arendelle,” she offered with her hand to shake. She held his hand a brief moment longer than merely polite. “Would you like to come up to the house? We rarely have company since my parents passed.” She drew in her leg and began to close the car door. “You can park at the top of the driveway,” she suggested.

Flynn got into his own car and followed her through the gate. It shuddered and stopped after rolling closed by a few centimeters. Elsa continued driving up the winding way, and Flynn stayed a length behind her Mercedes until the final loop, where he parked behind her.

A butler opened the front door for her as soon as her dainty feet gained the final step to the porch. “Kai,” she addressed him after she and Flynn passed into the spacious entry, “will you ask Gerda to bring some refreshment down to the conservatory?” She touched Flynn on his upper arm with the slightest brushing of her fingertips, guiding him down a polished hallway until they came to a wide set of gleaming hardwood stairs leading downward. The stairs led to a large room with vaulted ceilings and a stone fireplace, where a wall of windows exposed a view to a lush garden beyond them. Priceless _objet d’art_ perched on antique tables. A corner of the room held a baby grand piano.

Flynn crossed the room to a portrait above the fireplace. “Is that you?” he asked, a grin lighting his face as he indicated one of the figures in the painting.

Elsa laughed, a small, bell-like sound. “Yes, that’s me. With my father, Agnarr, and my mother, Iduna. That imp in pigtails is my little sister.”

“Cute tot. Now you,” he turned away from the painting to compare her with the wide-eyed child in the family portrait, “turned out OK.”

Elsa turned her eyes away. “Hm.”

Flynn perused the room, his path winding through the fine furniture. He kept saying the wrong things. Out of habit, he refrained from touching anything that would hold a fingerprint. He paused by the piano.

“Do you play?” Elsa asked.

He didn’t, but he didn’t want to tell her that. He had enough of the basics to fake musical education, as long as he didn’t have to actually play an instrument. “What do you like?” he asked.

“Dvořák. Mahler,” Elsa listed. “My father played beautifully. I would sit here,” she indicated an armchair by a window, where the thick foliage of the trees cast shade, “and listen to him for hours. As long as I was quiet, he never minded.” She spoke in a wistful manner, and her gaze went distant.

Her reverie was broken by the arrival of the maid with a tray. She bustled in, trying to make her presence minimal, but with the mistress of the house and her guest silent, Gerda was a symphony of noise just setting down the mugs, spoons, and linens. She had brought hot chocolate, judging by the scent. “Can I bring anything else, Elsa dear?” Gerda asked.

“This is perfect,” Elsa answered. The small smile she gave her maid before Gerda left was full of kindness.

Flynn noted the way Elsa’s eyes widened slightly with anticipation of the treat. Her pert nose flared, inhaling the wafting scent of chocolate. She handed one of the mugs to Flynn. She took the other for herself, with a finger going through the whipped cream and then past her lips before she took her first sip. He knew he was staring, and he couldn’t stop. Her lilac dusted lids closed over her eyes, bringing those long, translucent eyelashes down against porcelain cheeks flushing with pleasure.

She pulled her lips away from the edge of the mug and blotted them against each other. A stain of lipstick, only a tinge, colored the gold rim with ruby. “I know this is a coffee town,” she said, deep and velvet like a purr, “but I do love my cocoa.”

“Espresso is overrated,” Flynn claimed. Seeing the effects of theobroma on Elsa, he could even start to believe it. He quickly drank from the mug, where the whipped cream had melted into the hot beverage and started a spill over. The chocolate was rich and dark, with smoky notes coming through. He would bet his left kidney that it was single origin, direct-from-the-farmer cacao. He found himself becoming jealous of the bone china mug in her hands. If he had those perfect hands cradling his jawline…

Her eyes came up and caught his. She turned away, hiding her face with one elegant hand. She put the cocoa back down on the table. “Would you like to sit down?” she offered. She took a seat on the Victorian fainting couch. She perched with crossed ankles.

He did not wait to join her. “Tell me more about what you like,” he asked. He fought to keep the begging tone out of his query. 

“Why don’t you tell me something about you?” Elsa turned the verbal probe back. “Tell me about what you like, Flynn Rider.”

Flynn collected himself to make a good impression. “Well. I attend the ballet and the symphony. Thoughtfully prepared cuisine. Sparkling company…”

“You have an appreciation for fine things,” she said.

“Yes. When I find them,” he answered. He looked directly into her eyes.

“How do you feel about the derby?” she asked.

Flynn made a helpless gesture. “I love it,” he said. In fact, he had a phobia of horses. The big, crazy hats made him nervous, too, truth be told. Last year, one of the royals had worn a pink one that looked like a large, frilly lady-part.

“Good, because my sister insists on season tickets to the Rat City Rollergirls,” she revealed. “And I hate sitting alone when she’s participating.”

Caught off guard, Flynn exclaimed, “The roller derby!” 

“That’s right. Dangerous women in knee pads,” replied Elsa, her curvaceous lips tweaked with amusement.

“And your sister… participates.”

“Whenever she can.” 

“You poor woman.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Elsa said. “It makes her happy, and that matters a lot to me.” Her mug empty, she put it down one final time and relaxed leaning back on the wide seat cushion. Though swaddled in black, her figure was a terrain of sweeping curves. The contour of her collarbone peeked above the wide neckline of her dress. She looked up toward the painting above the fireplace. “After our parents’ accident, we only had each other. It isn’t always easy.”

Flynn leaned in. Not enough to invade her space. It was just a small move to be closer to her. “I imagine it’s hard watching over a kid sister.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Let’s just say it’s good that we have excellent health care here. She contracted dengue fever last spring during a diving trip in Costa Rica.”

“That’s serious.”

“She stayed in Central America long enough to come back conversationally fluent in Spanish.” Her leg moved close enough to brush against his when she uncrossed her ankles.

“All part of growing up,” he commented. “Kids are like sponges.” He wondered how to get her off this topic and back to her.

“She _is_ only two and a half years younger than me,” Elsa supplied.

Flynn sat up straight. “Um, and that is how old now?” he asked. 

“Don’t worry. I’m over twenty-one,” she teased. “Did you think my sister was still a child?”

“Well, not exactly,” Flynn backtracked, but that had been exactly the image he had had of her little sister. Little. He glanced back at the family portrait. He was an idiot; the girls were both children in it, and obviously Elsa was not a child anymore.

Standing up, Elsa asked, “Would you like to see the garden? I think I would like some fresh air.’

“It’s finally twilight,” he noticed, standing up as well. “Do you want to get a wrap in case it’s getting cold outside?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Elsa answered. She opened the glass paned doors to lead the way out to the garden. “This is my favorite time of day in the summer. The days are so long and bright. I miss the overcast days we have the rest of the year, but summer twilight is pleasant.”

The neighborhood was close enough to the lake that a chill was in the breeze. Flynn hid a shiver, but Elsa seemed revitalized by the cool night descending. They strolled together beside the large pond that was a central feature of a Japanese garden. Koi rose up among the water plants, revealing flashes of orange and yellow before slipping away. They paused by an iron bell as large as a refrigerator that looked older than time, under an arch of wisteria that appeared as old as the bell. When the breeze stirred the flowers, the air filled with perfume.

“The stars are coming out,” Flynn said. He smiled back at Elsa when she smiled at him. 

She raised her face to the sky, her eyes scanning the hazy violet. “Are they?” Her posture was straight, but relaxed. Her hands folded together in front of her.

Flynn took one of her hands in his. “I mean in your eyes,” he said in a low voice. 

Her eyes flicked to regard him and then returned to gazing at the sky. “Are they?” she asked again, with a curious change to her tone. She didn’t draw back her hand.

A voice was calling her name, but Flynn didn’t register it at first. Elsa did, and she turned around and gave the call her attention. “Oh, that’s Anna. Come meet my sister,” she said.

The voice continued calling from inside the house, becoming louder when Anna reached the stairs to the conservatory. “Elsa! Elsa!”

“I’m out here, Anna,” Elsa called back. Since she was walking back to the house, Flynn had to follow. A young woman in gym clothes saw them approach and met them at the doorway. Elsa ushered Flynn inside. “Anna, this is my guest,” she introduced.

Flynn offered his hand. “Flynn Rider,” he said.

“I’m Anna,” the woman replied. She looked at her sister with wide eyes and mouthed “hottie” without trying to hide it.

Her auburn hair, tied back in two braids, and her sun-kissed skin set her apart from her sister, but the family resemblance was otherwise apparent. She was shorter, and not only because of wearing tennis shoes while Elsa was in high heels. She looked Elsa over and her naturally groomed eyebrows drew together. “Elsa,” she complained, “did you go there alone again? I asked you to wait for me to go together.”

“I can visit them alone, Anna. It’s all right.”

“I don’t like it when you go to the cemetery alone,” the sister said. “It’s too sad. When we go together it’s better.”

Flynn wandered away to inspect a Ming vase so that he wouldn’t be in the way of a family discussion.

“You weren’t home,” Elsa said to her sister. “I thought you would be home hours ago. Where were you?”

“I was at the gym, working out.” Anna leaned toward her sister. “I’ll tell you why later!” she whispered. She turned in place until she located Flynn. “So, Flynn Rider! Are you staying for dinner?”

“Oh, I don’t know if--” Elsa started to say, making an excuse for Flynn.

“I hadn’t made any plans--” Flynn started at the same time.

They both stopped, helpless expressions on their faces as they looked at each other for an indication of the right answer. 

“I would like you to stay for dinner, if you don’t have other plans,” Elsa said. Her nervous hands betrayed her emotions.

Flynn was impressed beyond words with her bravery. He made a decision on the spot: as long as she would have him near, he would stay beside her. “It would be a pleasure to have dinner with you ladies,” he said brightly. 

Anna said, “First, I need to run up and change. You two, stay here and pretend I never interrupted your together time. I’ll tell Gerda to set the table for a guest.” Then, with an energetic hop, she turned and raced up the stairs, leaving Elsa and Flynn alone again.

“She’s full of life,” Flynn commented.

“That’s Anna,” Elsa agreed.

Belatedly, Flynn put the pieces together. “I’m not sure how to ask this,” he sought confirmation, “but… your parents, when did they… when did that happen?”

“It’s been almost six years. It’s OK to ask,” she allowed. “They were yachting and were caught in unexpectedly bad weather. We lost them in the storm.”

“So Anna was about fifteen,” Flynn supplied from what Hans had told him.

“Yes. I was old enough to act as her legal guardian. She straightened her shoulders and inhaled deeply. “It happened shortly after my birthday. I haven’t liked my birthday since.”

Flynn was both sorry and not sorry that he had asked. He almost blurted a promise to fix her birthdays, somehow. Now was not the time to warn her about Hans dating her sister, but he planned to disrupt his half-brother’s scheme before it gained traction. Flynn could see how much Anna meant to Elsa, and he wasn’t going to let Elsa get hurt. Ever.

“What do you say I take you out, tonight?” he asked. “Both you and Anna,” he amended to make the offer more casual. “I know a place with the best tapas in town, flamenco dancing, the works. And they make something called a Diablo, a chocolate mousse that will blow your mind.”

“It doesn’t sound like my usual thing, but I think Anna would love it,” Elsa answered.

“Uh. We can do something else. A French bistro, or maybe sushi?”

“Let’s see what Anna thinks,” Elsa suggested. “I will need to change my clothes, too, anyway. This,” she tugged the cuff of her funereal ensemble, “isn’t right for dinner. Or guests.” She stood waiting, looking at anything but Flynn. “Would you like to come with me upstairs?”

For a moment, Flynn imagined her asking him up to her bedroom. “Of-- of course,” he answered. He held onto the illusion a little longer.

“Wonderful,” she said with a relieved-sounding sigh. 

 

 


	3. Layer 3: Strawberries and Creme Fraiche

“Animal, Vegetable, Mineral”

Upstairs meant four more flights up after the return to the main level. The staircase was original to the architecture, wide enough for three people abreast, and the stairs had a high rise and short run that felt odd compared to modern stairs. Each short flight turned a sharp ninety degrees from the other. Gleaming wood under the carpet matched the toffee-colored banister. The landing for the second and third floors featured relatively modern stained glass windows. Further into the home, Flynn noticed more details of where the house had been modernized without losing the style of the century-old design. The third floor was comfortably cool, and the double panes of the windows supported his guess that all internal components, such as insulation, electrical wiring, and plumbing, were as up-to-date as they would be in any of the glass box houses constructed during the recent housing boom.

It was a house subtly showing off taste and class, much like his hostess. Elsa guided him to a generously sized room whose walls were lined with bookshelves. “This used to be the library,” she said. “I use it as an office. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She partially closed the door on her way out, but then popped back in to add, “Feel free to listen to some music while you’re waiting.” She pointed toward the iPod docked on her neat desk at the end of the room. Then she slipped back out again, leaving the door ajar by a hand’s breadth.

With an invitation like that, Flynn’s curiosity couldn’t be overlooked. Crossing to the desk, he picked up the brushed chrome device and scrolled through her music. There was a surprising amount of Indie music. He selected her “most played” playlist and tucked the iPod back into its dock. Lana Del Rey began crooning over the Bose sound system. Flynn snorted and took a seat to contemplate the inner workings of Elsa’s mind.

A few minutes later, he was about to skip past the _oeuvre_ of Marina and the Diamonds when the playlist yielded a Macklemore song, giving him pause. At the sound of Mary Lambert’s harmony, he dismissed the song as more girl music and skipped on. It was pretty much all girl music or stodgy classical. He leaned on the desk while he scrolled.

“Put that one back on. I love Pink,” Anna said as she sashayed into the study. “And if you’re interested in my sister, you’ll educate yourself to appreciate her.”

“Elsa, or… this?” Flynn queried, stabbing his thumb at the music.

Anna made a sour face. “Both, obviously.”

In truth, the singer had a strong, melodic voice, but the song was a plea with a heartbreaking growl to it, and Flynn didn’t like thinking of that bare emotion resonating with Elsa. He lost his train of thought when he noticed that Anna was wearing an outfit more appropriate for a beach setting than an elegant restaurant: cut off shorts and a tank top with the Seattle Storm logo. “Hm. Anna, your sister and I thought we might try out a tapas bar--”

“Whoo! Topless, that’s a bold move,” Anna said. She waited a moment, then grinned to show that she had heard him correctly and was making a joke. “That sounds great, actually. I think Elsa will enjoy it. Tiny little plates.” She hitched her backpack up to her shoulder. “Oh, did you think I planned to tag along as a third wheel? No thank you,” she said with a smile. “You,” she said, pointing at him, “make sure she has fun.”

She climbed onto the settee and sat with her legs crossed. She beckoned Flynn and pat the space next to her. Reluctant, but wanting to make a good impression on the sister, Flynn took the invitation. He unbuttoned his suit coat to sit. She put her backpack on the floor.

“You know what I mean by fun, right?”

“I think I do,” Flynn answered wryly.

“I don’t know… that’s a pretty uptight three piece suit you're wearing,” she said. “Wait. Are you wearing suspenders?” She reached toward him and peeked under his lapel. 

“Hey, now,” Flynn protested at the invasion of space.

“Yes you are! You are full of surprises, you secret hipster!” She nodded with approval glowing in her eyes. “You’ll do. OK. Here’s what you need to know,” she leaned in after a glance at the open door, “Let Elsa drive, do whatever my sister says, and if you wait for her to make the first move, it will never happen.”

“Anna…”

“Never,” Anna repeated. “I mean, like _never._ ”

Flynn weighed the assistance against the possibility of showing his hand too soon. He lowered his voice. “She has dated before, of course,” he said. He wondered if what Anna was implying was true. He’d seen it before, when an exceptionally beautiful woman was seen like a museum piece. She would eventually end up as someone’s trophy.

“If you ask her, she has,” Anna answered. “But-- no. Not real dating.”

“I can’t believe it,” Flynn lied.

Anna took a sympathetic tone. “Well, she’s shy,” she said. “She’s really fun once you get past the guard dogs. You’ll see. Don’t give up on her.”

“We just met, Anna,” Flynn said. He couldn’t look as eager as he felt. An aloof, untouched heiress was too perfect to be believed.

“I have a good feeling about you,” Anna answered sagely. She put out her hand. “Let me see your phone.”

It was Flynn’s turn to make a face. “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

“That’s the point,” she said.

“If you must know, I don’t carry one,” Flynn told her. She looked incredulous. “Really, I don’t.” Police could always track the GPS. Legally, they would need a warrant to do it. In reality, cops broke the law all the time; there were always a few crooked cops.

“How do you live?” asked Anna.

“There is life beyond Candy Crush and Facebook,” Flynn said.

“Oh my god, no one is playing Candy Crush anymore.” Anna rolled her eyes. “How does someone call you? How do you make… dental appointments? Or get a ride home from a club?”

“I have a phone at home and a phone at the office.” He didn’t have a good answer for the last question, because the answer was that he would be going home with a woman.

Anna raised an eyebrow. “The office, hm? What kind of office?” 

“I provide therapy for clients who need a psychiatric professional.” Flynn was well practiced in dancing around his lack of a medical degree.

“Oh. Good.” Anna seemed content with the answer. “OK. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” he promptly answered.

“Vegetable you hate most?”

“I would have to say carrots.”

“Carrots? What do you have against carrots?”

“I don’t know. Make it beets.”

“You are seriously going to be lacking in beta carotene, sir,” Anna warned. “And how about, if you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?” She looked at him expectantly.

“A tall one?”

She shrugged. “I’ll take it.” She pat his knee and unfolded from the settee. “Don’t forget to have a mint after dinner.”

She bounded out into the hall, where Flynn heard her run into Elsa. The elder sister exclaimed over Anna’s attire, and then they squabbled in emphatic whispers for several minutes. After Anna’s parting farewell and another minute of silence, the library room door opened the rest of the way and Elsa walked in, her lips set in an exasperated line. Her hands rubbed at her wrists.

“That’s a very becoming ensemble, if you don’t mind my saying,” Flynn commented.

The hard line of Elsa’s lips softened. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath, then sighed. “It will only be us tonight. I suppose you overheard.”

“I’m not disappointed,” Flynn said.

Elsa made eye contact and smiled with closed lips. She looked away, up and off to the side, while still smiling. 

She wore a turquoise silk blouse with a slate grey tulip skirt that flared above her knees. Her legs shimmered pearlescent, and her dress sandals were the same dark silver as her bracelets. Dark yellow topaz dripped on fine white gold chain from her earrings, creating a counterpoint to the cold color scheme and making her softly pinned back hair look even more like moonlight. Her nails were still shell pink, but she had added rings with colored gemstones to her slim fingers.

He noticed that her toenails had a different color of nail polish, more of an ice blue. At the same time, he realized that she was wearing sandals, which meant that the shimmer on her legs was not stockings, but body dust on bare skin. She had a touch of the powder on her bare shoulders, as well.

She asked him, “Are you too warm? You look flushed.” She took a step toward him.

“I’m, um, no, I’m fine.” If she smelled as good as she looked, he would get a nose bleed.

“I’ll get you some water,” she said. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Seattle Storm is Seattle's superb women's basketball team.
> 
> **The Macklemore song is "Same Love," and the P!nk song is "Please Don't Leave Me." M&tD's "Teen Idle" would definitely be on Elsa's playlist.
> 
> ***Seattle cops are cool, though Flynn would never admit it. When I was a barista, closing up alone, they used to descend en masse from 11 to midnight. They made me feel safer. Now they all wear body-cams, too, so SPD is no place for bad cops.


	4. Layer 4: Crunch

“Dance Steps on Broadway”

He was in the hall when she came from her bedroom with a bottle of mineral water. She put it in his hands, asking, “Is sparkling OK? We can go downstair and get plain.”

He drank the water as if he had just come out of the desert. “Good,” he mumbled. “I’m good. This is good.”

Elsa silently swore at Anna for whatever awful thing Anna had said to Flynn to make him sick. Anna was always blurting out things, like descriptions of knee surgery in graphic detail. “I’m sorry about Anna,” Elsa offered.

Flynn seemed to be getting back his equilibrium. “No, your sister’s great. Lively.”

“She is _full_ of energy,” she replied. Too curious not to ask, Elsa inquired, “What did you talk about?” She started toward the stairs down.

“Uh, vegetables,” Flynn said. “Would you like to take your car or mine?”

“If you don’t mind navigating, I’ll drive. You know where the restaurant is.” She was glad he had asked. She didn’t trust anyone else to drive; she couldn’t relax in the passenger seat. People talked to other drivers, honked and yelled, fiddled with the radio, or looked at you when they should have eyes on the road. Her father never did any of those things. He drove without a word, never changing the radio station from classical, and even Anna would play quietly in the back seat with a doll or toy.

“It’s on Capitol Hill,” Flynn supplied.

“Good! I know my way around there,” Elsa commented.

Her father had taught her to drive. At least, he had started to, declaring on her birthday that eighteen years old was overdue for a license while handing her the keys to a modest BMW. He had been patient, or she had been eager to please him, because she learned all the basics within a few days. She failed the first two driving tests, however; they were too soon after her parents’ funeral.

“You know your way around Capitol Hill?” he echoed.

“Yes, my friend Olaf lives there. In the artist lofts,” she answered.

“He’s an artist? One of those sloppy, bad hygiene, no real job types, maybe?” Flynn seemed oddly hopeful as he fished for hints of competition.

“No,” Elsa answered. “His roommate Peri is the artist, but everyone likes Olaf, so he tells people he’s a performance artist and that lets him be on their lease.” She decided to toss Flynn a fish. “He’s short, bald, and cheerfully fat.” A small fish. “And very huggy.”

Flynn brooded over that. “So… do you spend a lot of time, um, in Capitol Hill?” He held the front door for her as they proceeded out of the house.

Still fishing. “Some,” Elsa answered.

She unlocked her car. Flynn held the driver’s door open for her, and she allowed him to gently close it after she was in. He walked around the front and took the passenger seat. After starting the engine, Elsa reached for the button to take the convertible's top down. She changed her mind. Instead, she turned on the radio and selected the classical preset.

Thoughts of her parents, and especially of her father, were on her mind heavily. She needed to address the Board of Directors. That always made her nervous. She was on the board in a non-executive capacity, but they all expected her to step up to CEO at some point soon. It wasn’t what she wanted, but it was what she had been groomed for, and with her newly-minted graduate degree completed, it was what they expected. Of course, she wasn’t expected to fully fill her father’s shoes as executive chairman, but she still wondered how she could ever stand in his place at all. No one could.

“Look at all this traffic,” Flynn commented in a murmur when they turned on to Madison Avenue some minutes later.

“It’s the Block Party,” Elsa realized aloud. “We’re not going to be able to drive down Pike or park around here.” The Capitol Hill Block Party was an annual summer concert that took over the Pike/Pine corridor and surrounding streets.

“We can go somewhere else,” Flynn suggested. “Maybe down to the waterfront?”

“Let’s try around here. I can show you a beautiful building.” It was a little hard to find, but tucked in the residential streets was an old Russian Orthodox church. It was architecturally interesting, from the onion domes to the tiling. The houses nearby that hadn’t been replaced by newer buildings were bungalow and craftsman style, too.

Unfortunately, nearly all of the available parking was permit restricted. Elsa finally found one. It was tight, on a steep incline, and would require parallel parking. She paused, then passed it up.

Flynn gave her a questioning look that she knew had been coming.

“I can’t parallel. Especially on a hill like that.”

“I could,” Flynn offered. He said it without bragging, without judgment, such a mild offer that Elsa turned the corner to circle the block.

When they returned to the still open spot, she turned on the blinker and set the parking brake with the car running. Without another word, they both got out of the car to switch places. Before taking the driver’s seat, Flynn said, over the roof of her car, “If you stand on the sidewalk by the front of that Fiat, it will help me judge the distance.”

Elsa nodded, closed the passenger side door, and went to stand on the sidewalk. True to his word, Flynn lined up and maneuvered into the tiny parking spot in one move. He pulled forward an inch to put the Mercedes in the center of the space. 

She felt her hands trembling when, after he had completed parking, he handed her smart key to her. She locked the car and set the alarm. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, seeing her shiver.

“No,” she answered honestly. “Just impressed.” She dropped the key fob into her purse.

“Oh.” 

She felt his eyes on her and couldn’t look at him.

He joked, “I’m good at getting out of tight spots, too.”

She laughed. “Do you get into tight spots often, Mr. Rider?” 

“You must be impressed, if you’re calling me ‘sir’ now,” he laughed.

“No,” she said, feeling her heart thumping. “I’m not calling you Sir,” she raised her eyes slowly to him, “yet.”

She thought she had killed him, the way he petrified. She was immediately mortified. She turned and started walking down the hill. She didn’t look at him when he caught up stride with her.

She wondered if he would laugh at her later, with his friends, telling them about the desperate little freak who had come on to him. She was such a cliché, the prim socialite with a daddy kink, or whatever it was. She didn’t know what it was. She missed her father; he was the ideal man. At the same time, she didn’t fantasize about calling someone “Daddy” while he… did things to her. She just wanted someone strong and confident, but not arrogant. Someone to be her commodore.

“Let’s go to the Block Party,” she suggested. “I’m not hungry yet. Look! Timbre Barons is on stage!” She ran ahead, forcing Flynn to follow or use the excuse to leave. That he stayed with her went far to sooth her embarrassment. She bought wrist bracelets for both of them. It wasn’t until going through security that she realized she had left her phone in the car between the seats.

She stood at the edge of the crowd around the stage, giving herself over to listening to the band for the next few minutes. Flynn, standing closely beside her, put his hand against her back and pressed against her to let people get past. She focused away from his touch. She let herself be moved by the soundwaves blaring from the speakers.

“They sound like Franz Ferdinand. Maybe The National?” Flynn commented into her ear.

She opened her eyes and turned her head to give him a look. It shut him up. She turned her attention back to the stage.

“I’ll get us something to drink,” Flynn offered after a few minutes.

She let him slip off toward the beer garden. She watched him. He moved through the crowd as gracefully as an otter in the waves, like he could see the hidden paths and took them as his right of way. When he returned, she pretended not to see him until he was a few strides away. She smiled a welcoming smile that said, _I’m normal. I’m nice_.

He handed her a red plastic cup while he drank from his own. She took a drink off the top. She could see that Flynn had a dark, frothy beer. He had chosen her a citrusy pale ale.

“Did I do OK?” he asked, gesturing with his cup toward hers.

She wished he would listen to the music. It would tell him so much about her, if he paid attention to the lyrics. Any of the lyrics. “It’s fine.” She had to speak loudly to be heard over the crowd and band. “Anna likes Kilt Lifter. If there’s beer around, that’s usually the one.” She leaned into his ear so she wouldn’t have to keep shouting. “To be honest, I’m a little tired of ale.”

Flynn grinned while she had her lips close to his ear. When she pulled away, he moved behind her and spoke over her shoulder into her ear. “Want to try my stout?” His hips against her backside may have been suggestive, or it may have simply been the close quarters of the venue. He did offer his beer, his right arm wrapping around her to put it in front of her.

She leaned forward for a sip. The motion let her get away with pushing further back against him. His left hand reached up and brushed fingertips over her neck. They moved to her earring, then her earlobe, before returning to her neck. Then they trailed over her collarbone, stopping at the divot at the base of her throat. His fingers probing her suprasternal notch was more erotic than if he had slipped his hand under her skirt. He brought his face in toward her neck. She felt his chin hairs tickle.

Someone bumped into them while walking past and chortled, “Get a room, hipsters!”

“Aaand I’m done here,” Flynn said, sounding offended. He began to guide Elsa out of the thickest part of the crowd, toward where the pedestrian traffic flowed more freely. “Do you mind if we go somewhere where we can hear each other without yelling?”

“I am not a hipster,” Elsa complained. She couldn’t help herself; she burst out in giggles.

“Like anyone in this crowd has a right to sling mud,” Flynn protested. He finished both their beers and tossed the empty cups into a bin overflowing with used party cups.

“Why?” Elsa asked, when they were nearing the street dividers that marked the event. They crossed over a rainbow-painted crosswalk. “Why do you say that? Because they’re all ‘weirdos’?”

Flynn started to respond. He saw her expression and stopped with his mouth open. He closed his mouth and started over. “I’m all for free expression,” he said. She saw a trio of women in body paint and glitter catch his attention. He tracked them until they melded into the crowd. “One hundred percent,” he added.

“I bet,” she said, to remind him she was there.

He actually seemed ashamed of his ogling. “Can I offer you a cocktail, or a glass of wine?” he asked. “We seem to have our choice of fine establishments.”

Their path took them near one of the bars. “They’re as crowded as out here,” Elsa noted. They continued walking. Each bar and restaurant they passed, of which there were many, were packed full. She lingered at the windows of a cupcake bakery.

Flynn took her by the arm and steered her in through the bakery’s doorway. She offered minimal resistance. Inside had the heavenly smell of sugar and butter.

“Look, they have tiny ones,” she pointed out.

“You can have a regular one,” Flynn told her, as if reminding her of her freedom to choose. “You can have two.”

“I’ll only have a little one,” she replied. “I’ll have a baby cake,” she told the person behind the counter while she pointed at the Little Death By Chocolate miniature cupcake.

“Make that for two.” Then Flynn whispered to Elsa as he handed a credit card to the shop clerk, “Not your only _petite mort_ this night, if you’ll let me.” He ignored the shop clerk rolling her eyes. After Flynn and Elsa carried their plates to a table, he sat opposite her and asked, “Too forward?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said, in a small voice. She kept her eyes on her cupcake. Then she picked it up and quickly fed it to him, paper and all. He opened his mouth in time and sucked her fingers clean of frosting before she pulled them away. He tried to offer his to her reciprocally, but she pushed his hand away. After a hesitation, he ate his cupcake as well. He licked his lips, thinking.

“It smells good in here,” she said.

“That it does,” he replied.

She stood up and walked around the shop, looking at the art on the walls. “There’s a gallery near here. They stay open late on weekends. Would you like to see some of Peri’s art?”

“Lead on,” Flynn answered.

“It’s over a street or two,” she said on the way out of the bakery. She was still flustered, and she couldn’t quite remember if the gallery was on the middle part or north end of Broadway. They walked out on Twelfth Avenue to overshoot the park and the worst of the pedestrian and automobile traffic, then down the hill to Broadway, a busy thoroughfare of shops and eateries as well as the main arterial for motorists. 

They walked past souvenir shops and stores selling clothes Elsa thought no one would ever wear, past thrift stores and coffee kiosks. Intent on looking for the gallery she remembered, she didn’t notice how many of them were closed for the night. Flynn became distracted by the brass shapes of shoe prints embedded in the sidewalk. Elsa waited for him while he tried to follow the arrows indicating dance steps.

“Have you tried this?” he asked.

Elsa looked at the complicated directions. “I don’t… I don’t dance,” she said.

“I’ve always meant to take lessons,” he said.

Though the time was fully night, and it would have been dark anywhere away from the urban core, the light of the city created an unnatural dusk. Elsa didn’t realize how late it had become until they came upon the gallery and found someone locking up the front door. “I’m sorry, hon,” he told her. “I’ve got to go home. It’s midnight.” He shrugged and smiled. “Come back tomorrow, OK?”

“It’s midnight?” she lamented. She peered in through the windows. To Flynn, she said, “You can still see inside a little.” She took his hand and drew him toward the glass, but let his hand go to point at the sculptures within. “That’s one of Periwinkle’s, the one that looks like winter frost on leaves. And that one, in the back by the wall. It’s all found objects, like pieces of things and broken glass.”

“Your friend has talent,” Flynn said. Elsa wondered if he could truly see Peri’s talent, or if Flynn was saying what she wanted to hear.

“Their art really speaks to me,” Elsa said. She leaned close to the glass, trying to make out the figures that seemed covered in ice crystals.

Flynn gave her a long, observing look. She caught it from the corner of her eye, but continued looking through the window. He said, at last, “Let’s say we come back tomorrow. The tapas place is going to be closed, too, now.”

At the mention of dinner, she realized that she was very hungry. She started walking back the way they came, toward the hamburger drive-in. A line twenty people long wound out from the walk up windows. The greasy smell of French fries was suddenly the best thing she had ever smelled. “Let’s get Dick’s,” she stated. She was already aiming toward the end of the line.

Flynn hesitated but easily caught up to her. “I didn’t think you ate fast food,” he questioned.

“Come on, everyone eats Dick’s,” she answered. “Anyway, you only met me today. How do you know what I put in my mouth?” She smiled in triumph when she saw that she had stunned him wordless. 

“You’re right,” he said with great care once he was able to speak again, “I was making assumptions.”

“I forgive you,” she said.

They reached the order window after a series of people who ordered large orders. Feeling like she had been given permission, Elsa ordered more than she normally would have, and pushed Flynn to do the same. They left with a full bag and milkshakes each a matter of minutes later. Flynn suggested that they could sit in the park to eat. Conscientiously staying on the paved paths because of her high heeled shoes, which would sink into grass, Elsa navigated them to the fountain, where they found a clean space on a short wall and sat to eat.

Flynn picked at his French fries. “In the interest of not tripping over more assumptions,” he started, “I think I should find out more about you. From the source.”

“Such as?” She stirred the straw around in her shake. It made a squeaking sound against the plastic lid.

“Well, do you have any pets?”

“No,” she answered.

“Like animals?”

“Yes, I do like animals. How about you?”

“Sure,” he said, “what’s not to like? How about school? Where did you go to school?”

Elsa pushed a stray wisp of hair back behind her ear. “Anna and I both went to a private girls school. I went to Whitman for college. I would have attended Bryn Mawr, but then Mother and Father… so I needed to stay at least in-state for Anna. Anna is supposed to be back at at SPU in the fall, but she is dragging her feet about completing her bachelor’s degree.”

“What about you? What’s your degree in?” he asked, as she knew he would.

“Business administration,” she answered. She inhaled and exhaled before completing, “and architecture.”

“No way,” he commented.

She shrugged. 

“So you’re an architect,” he queried.

“Not in practice,” she answered. “The company keeps me with the garden gloves on.” Knowing that Flynn wouldn’t understand, she clarified. “My family has been in horticulture since the Tulip Mania, six generations of that here in Western Washington. Currently we genetically design crocuses, tulips, hyacinths, daffodils… anything that grows from a bulb.” 

“Garlic?” he asked.

“We don’t do any consumable GMOs,” she answered. To the best of her knowledge, they did not.

“Do you get to design any of these floral wonders yourself?” he teased.

“No,” she answered, “but I did have one named after me.”

He seemed pleased by that. “‘Elsa’ flower?”

“‘Eternal Winter’,” she answered plainly. “It’s a silver-white crocus with a very long bloom time.” His smile had evaporated. “They thought they were being sweet,” she said. “Everyone remarks on the color of my hair.” She sighed. “I got them to name a red, early blooming crocus in honor of Anna,” she said, smiling as she remembered her hard-won victory. “That one is called ‘Love Will Thaw’. The two are beautiful, planted together.”

Flynn was looking at her with an intense gaze. “No one should ever hurt you like that,” he said.

“It was unintentional,” she excused.

“That’s what I mean,” he said.

She replied slowly. “So they should only hurt me intentionally?”

“ _If_ that’s what you’re into,” he answered. “And there’s a safe word.”

Before she had to decide on a response, a scruffy looking couple ambled up and swayed near Flynn and Elsa. “Hi,” one of them said. “We don’t want to bother you,” the other one started. Flynn offered them his hamburger bag, which still contained an untouched burger and most of his fries. They were still thanking him jovially as he walked away with Elsa, his hand on the small of her back.

They headed in the direction of her car. As they crossed through the park, following the winding paths, they passed backlit figures in the shadows, couples wholly focused on each other, and in one case, a threesome making out against a jungle gym in the children’s play area. Flynn didn’t say another word to her.

Elsa broke the silence when they reached her Mercedes. “Flynn!” she cried out, staring in shock at the damage. Not only the side windows, but the windshield was smashed. The paint bore long scratches, and no air was left in the punctured tires.

ooo

 


	5. Layer 5: Rock Candy

“Working Single-O”

Elsa paced around the disaster that was her car. The vandalism was deliberate and thorough. Inside, the glove box hung open, spilling out its few contents. She felt as though she could not get a breath. It took concentrating on Flynn to understand what he was saying to her.

“Sit down, Elsa. Elsa. It’s going to be OK, but not if you fall over. Here, look, sit on my coat. You don’t want to get your skirt dirty.”

She let him take hold of one of her wrists to guide her gently down to sit on his suit coat, laid out on the sidewalk. She separated her clutched hands from each other so that she could press them flat against her face, covering her eyes and mouth while she tried to remember how to breathe.

He took her purse off her shoulder with care, asking, “Is there someone I can call?”

She shook her head. “My phone was in the car. It’s gone.” She moved her hands off her face. She rubbed her temple. “You’ll have to call the police so I can file a report.”

He stayed crouched beside her. “We’ll take care of that later. Don’t you worry about that,” he soothed.

“I set the alarm. Why didn’t it go off?”

“I don’t think it would have mattered,” Flynn answered. “It probably did go off, but this could have happened fast. They would wait until there wasn’t anyone around to witness, either.”

“I want to go home,” she said. She felt near to screaming and thought she might start crying as soon as the lump moved out of her throat.

“We’ll get you home. Elsa, didn’t you say your friends lived nearby? Your artist friends?” he asked.

She gave him a single nod. “Yes. Why?”

“You’ve had a bad shock. I think you should sit for a while somewhere that feels safe. OK? Where do your friends live? Is it those lofts we walked by back that way? Next to the storage center?”

“I think… yes, there’s a storage place next door.” She stood up. She was shaky on her feet. When she started walking, she stumbled over her own toes. Luckily, Flynn was right beside her for her to stumble into. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he said. The cashmere of his voice was much needed comfort.

They made their way to the lofts. Elsa found Periwinkle and Olaf’s apartment number on the intercom and dialed it. After only two rings, Periwinkle’s hello came over the speakers. Elsa could hear what sounded like party noises and Olaf laughing in the background.

“Peri, it’s Elsa,” Elsa announced.

“And guest,” Flynn added.

Periwinkle didn’t wait for an explanation. “Elsa! Come on up!” she said. The lobby door buzzed with unlocking.

“Night owls,” Flynn commented as he walked Elsa to the elevator.

“I don’t think Olaf ever sleeps,” she answered. She already felt better, her spirits lifted with the anticipation of seeing her friends.

At the unit door, Periwinkle welcomed them into a spacious room, eclectically decorated but homey. Elsa paid attention to Flynn’s reaction to her friend, noting how he took in Peri’s ultra-petite size, their shock of bleached white pixie cut hair, and their gender non-specific clothing style. “I’m so happy to see you,” Periwinkle said. “And meet your friend,” she added in welcome to Flynn. Subtle nuances in their body language made Elsa think Peri was feeling femme.

Olaf made a beeline to Elsa from the couch, where he had been sitting watching a noisy movie. His stubby legs took him right to her, his arms already open for the customary hug. “My dearest Elsa!” He hugged her tightly, pressing his cheek against her chest before letting go.

“Come in, come in,” Periwinkle urged.

Olaf blocked Flynn from passing. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Olaf.” He opened his arms to Flynn in invitation to a hug.

Elsa was pleased to see Flynn accept it, however awkwardly. He quickly escaped the hug and followed Elsa. He indicated that she should sit, so she took a spot on the end of the couch. Periwinkle sat in the center of the couch, next to her, and Flynn wavered a moment before taking a seat in the low rocking chair. Olaf came out of the kitchen area with a plate of charcuterie and baby carrots.

He set it down on a table. “Piña Coladas, anyone?” he asked. When the others demurred, he got comfortable on the other end of the couch. He picked up his drink from the end table and sipped around the paper umbrella.

Peri picked up the remote control and turned the volume down on the movie. “It’s so nice to see you,” Peri repeated. “How are you?”

“My car was vandalized,” Elsa admitted. “It’s undriveable. We got back to it and it just…” she trailed off, seeing the upsetting image in her mind.

“Oh, honey,” Periwinkle comforted with a hand on Elsa’s knee. “You must be so upset. Did it just happen?”

Elsa put her hand over Peri’s. She nodded. Periwinkle’s lotion smelled of lavender. It was calming.

“Well, if you need to lie down for a bit, my futon has fresh sheets.”

Flynn leaned forward in the rocking chair. “Could you call us a cab?”

Periwinkle blinked and considered before replying. “Sure, but if you want to go right now,” they addressed Elsa, “I could just drive you.” Before Elsa could protest over the trouble, Periwinkle insisted, “It’s really no problem.”

“If it’s not an imposition,” Elsa said.

“It’s not.” Periwinkle gave Elsa’s knee a squeeze. “Let me check on available cars nearby.” They went to retrieve their cell phone from the kitchen pass-through counter.

Elsa ran her hands down her skirt. “I can give you a quick tour of their studio,” she offered Flynn.

“Yeah, sure. That would be great,” he responded.

Olaf joined them in a meander around the loft’s floor level. Admiring her friend’s work anew, she showed off the wall art and sculptures that were Peri’s. Olaf urged Flynn and Elsa over to a covered work bench, where he lifted the sheet to show them Periwinkle’s foray into jewelry. Each ring and pendant was a small piece of wearable art in precious metals and gemstones.

Peri walked over with their smartphone in hand. “I reserved the car that’s right downstairs,” they said. “Do you like the jewelry?”

“It’s beautiful,” Elsa praised.

Peri took the compliment with a smile. “So Flynn,” they asked as the group headed to the front door. Elsa gave Olaf a parting hug. “I hope you don’t mind squeezing in, but it is a short ride.”

“Backseat’s fine,” Flynn answered while goodnaturedly suffering another hug from Olaf. Elsa hoped his good nature would hold, because he was going to be tall for Peri’s carshare smartcar.

* * *

 

Accordioned into the space behind the seats of the nose-shaped tin can on wheels that passed for an automobile, Flynn listened to the chatter and reassured himself about choosing the discomfort. Upon seeing his reaction to the size and accommodations of the car, Periwinkle had hinted that he could call himself a Lift ride directly to his home and make arrangements to get his car from Elsa’s house tomorrow. Elsa had been ready to go along with the suggestion in spite of a readable disappointment in separation from his company.

The understated heiress was all over the map. Elsa’s signs were so subtle that more than once during the evening Flynn had been driving blind. Her biggest tell was not the obvious fidgeting with her hands. It was the direction her eyes went when she smiled. If he hadn’t learned, out of self preservation, how to read Hans, he might not have been able to decipher her tells. The misty aura she cast around herself wasn’t even intentional; he had figured that much out.

While he had missed some navigational turn offs, he had nearly missed the _turn ons,_ but then the god of thieves had blessed him with the mayhem enacted on Elsa’s luxury automobile. And what mayhem it was! Some rank amateur must have thrown a tantrum when he couldn’t hotwire the keyless ignition.

She was wrecked, herself. He nearly felt bad about stealing her house key out of her purse. If it turned out that she would be willing to wake the old butler to open the door, then he would leave her longing for a goodnight kiss. Otherwise, he knew he could make the scramble up the wisteria trellis to the library window he had left open. Flynn anticipated the gratitude. He would be the key to her lock, with a satisfying finale to his night’s work.

From the front of the car, Elsa turned and asked over her shoulder, “Flynn, are you doing alright back there?”

“I’m all right!” he answered, letting a note of complaint tint his response. Elsa returned to discussing 1920s inspired fashion with Periwinkle. “You ladies, don’t mind me.”

Their conversation fizzled to an halt and was followed by an awkward silence. He noticed Periwinkle's glance at him via the rear view mirror. He could see Elsa’s dim reflection in the passenger side window: she was biting her lower lip.

“Flynn,” she started.

Periwinkle took a hand off the wheel to gesture “stop” to Elsa. In a low voice, pitched for Elsa, she said, “It happens. Don’t worry over it.” She shared a look with Elsa. Pointedly, she restarted their conversation. “You’re figure is ideal for mid-century, but don’t let that stop you. The pixie top you’re wearing is absolutely flattering.” Her eyes flickered to the rear view mirror again, then back to the road. “And if you want to try binding for the ideal flapper look, you know I can help you with that. I have lots of practice.”

The car turned off onto the dark road toward Elsa’s house. Tree lined streets and distantly spaced street lamps characterized the secluded neighborhood. They were soon at the driveway gate. This time, when Elsa gave Periwinkle the gate code to key in, the intricate wrought iron gate rolled back responsively.

She pulled up beside Flynn’s sedan and turned off the engine. Elsa hurried out of the car. As soon as she was out, she maneuvered the seat the rest of the way forward so that Flynn could climb out. Flynn took hold of the car roof; he hauled himself out, unfolding and stretching his long legs. He retrieved his rumpled suit coat. Elsa leaned back in to thank Peri insistently. They exchanged a hug, and then Periwinkle was on her way.

Elsa waved to Periwinkle before she drove past the driveway curve. When Periwinkle was gone, Elsa said to Flynn, without looking at him, “Peri’s bi-gender. Next time, could you not refer to them as one of the ladies?”

“Believe it or not,” Flynn said, “I figured out my _faux pas_ after the binder comment.”

“They’re my friend,” she said, a note of stubbornness in her tone.

“They,” Flynn emphasized the pronoun, “seem nice.” It got a mollified smile out of Elsa, and she looked up from the ground to glance into his eyes.

“I should have said something earlier,” she said. “So you would know.”

“It seems a little awkward, socially. We don’t go around introducing ourselves as heterosexual,” he offered as example.

“Cisgendered,” she corrected in a small voice. Her body language radiated discomfort, shoulders hunched and arms crossed over her waist. “I’m assuming. You seem very masculine.”

He could have confirmed her assumption, but he needed to get her at ease, with him if not with the situation. He judged that following this topic would only tighten her coil. “I’m sorry this date didn’t end the way it should have,” he said. She looked up when he said “end,” confirming for him that he had her measure right.

“Pretty much a colossal failure,” she said, looking sorry. “Epic. I’m sorry I ruined your dinner plan.”

“It wasn’t quite that bad,” he said. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “ _You_ didn’t ruin _anything_.”

She made a small shrugging gesture but didn’t move away from his touch. He took a step into her space, and she still didn’t move. He brushed the fingers of his free hand against her temple. He ran his thumb down her chin. Just a hint of pressure, and she raised her face.

“Think your sister is spying on us from a window?” he asked her.

Elsa scanned the face of the house. “She better not be,” she said. The mood disturbed, she fished around in her purse for her house key. A key that was not there, but in Flynn’s vest pocket. “Damn. Did I forget my key, too?”

“Won’t your butler get the door?” Flynn tested.

“I’m not going to wake him,” she said. “He’s an early sleeper. I don’t want to have to wake him or Gerda. Or Anna, if she’s even home.” Again, her eyes searched the house for an option. “We can walk around into the garden. Maybe we can get in from the conservatory.”

Flynn made a skeptical face. “Your houseman would leave that unlocked?”

“No, but I don’t know what else to do.”

They followed the path around the side of the house to the Japanese garden. As they passed under the windows of Elsa’s study, Flynn pointed out, “That window is open.”

“It’s the third floor,” Elsa said.

Flynn handed her his coat. “I haven’t told you that I go climbing out by Levenworth, have I? Plus a bit of parkour locally.”

“You can climb up there?” She seemed alarmed.

“I can get a foothold from this window up to the arbor,” he said. “The rest isn’t hard. You should probably look into better security.” He started toward the climb, unbuttoning the lower two buttons of his vest.

“Flynn.” Elsa stopped him with a touch on his shirt cuff. She flashed a smile. “You keep rescuing me today. Thank you.”

“Thank me in five minutes,” he said. After a calculated pause, he stepped in close, wrapped his arm around her waist, and kissed her mouth.

She responded to his kiss with open lips. Her tongue was like velvet, tasting his. When he broke the kiss and started to pull away, she chased the connection. He left her wanting.

He wanted more, himself. The flare of arousal put extra energy in his vault up to the top of the wisteria. Getting up the rest of the way and through the window took no special effort.

From the library, he crept out into the hall. He listened at a few doors before he found one he suspected to be Elsa’s room. A quiet peek inside confirmed that it was a bedroom. He slipped in, took in the surroundings, and felt sure it was hers even before he checked the vanity and found her makeup and a brush with fine, white-blonde hairs still entwined. She had a sleigh bed, the kind with curved headboard and footboard in intricately carved hardwood, that was piled high with a cloud of bedding in spite of the summer heat.

He opened up a window on the side above the garden. He leaned out and called down in a whisper, “Elsa.” She looked up and walked along the side of the house to stand below him. “Is this one your room?” She nodded. He retreated back into the room, away from the window, and took the keychain with her house key out of his pocket. He returned to the window. “Hold out your hands,” he instructed.

Her face showed her unspoken question, but she held her hands out, palms up. He dropped her house key straight down into them. “Found your key,” he said.

She disappeared down the path back to the front of the house, no doubt to let herself in. While he waited for her, Flynn considered where he should be when she entered the room. Lying across her bed? No, she was skittish, and that would put too much pressure on her to join him. He decided to roll up his cuffs and lean against the frame of the window after closing it most of the way. The slightly open window would give her subconscious permission to close the bedroom door behind her without feeling trapped in. He worked the knot on his tie slightly looser and unbuttoned the button beneath. He unbuttoned all the buttons of his vest. For good measure he ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a light tousle to complete the appearance of effort after his third story climb. He wasn’t sloppy, just a touch rumpled.

Elsa came through the door with quick steps. She seemed to have run up the stairs. Her chest rose and fell in a distracting way, or rather, a way that made Flynn focus on her chest. She turned her back toward him when she closed the bedroom door. She stayed facing the door for several seconds before turning around. She dropped her purse and his coat on the chair nearby.

She crossed to the center of the room. When she passed her bed, she ran her hand over the swoop of footboard as if catching her balance.

A couple of relaxed strides were all he needed to meet her in her space. He didn’t put his hands anywhere on her. He tipped his head down and kissed her, letting the only parts mutually touching be their lips. She touched him first, hesitantly slipping under his open vest front, her slim, cool hands landing on his lowest ribs as if afraid to touch any less neutral territory.

He held her shoulders and kissed her more deeply. There was warmth and wetness in the kiss, and sincere, sincere interest on his part. The spark from the first moment they touched hands was a like a drop of sunlight. He wanted to let that feeling fill him. He wanted to mix it with hers until it blazed like a bonfire.

Elsa’s fingers crept along to toy at the edge of his suspender strap. One of those perfect fingernails ventured between shirt and elastic. She took a step in closer, placing his trousered leg between her bare knees. He opened his eyes to watch her nearly unreadable struggle against self-restraint.

She wavered at the edge of taking what she wanted. He pulled his mouth off of hers, slowly, so that she would suffer the anticipation of a broken kiss. Her eyes opened to him, full of silent pleading. Their blue seemed not like ice but like the hottest part of a chemical flame.

He wrapped his hands around her hands and guided them against his chest, under the straps of his suspenders. He left her hands there, releasing them so that his hands were free to trace down her arms, turning at her elbows to slide across and down the curve up her hips, then back again up under her blouse. He lifted his palms so that only his fingertips grazed the bare skin of her waist.

She slid her hands apart across his chest, pushing the suspenders until they dropped off his shoulders, taking his vest with them. Her eyes watched her hands. Shallow breaths passed between her slightly parted lips.

He leaned in with a whisper she would have to strain to hear. “That’s a good girl,” he crooned. At the soft sound of her involuntary whimper, he knew he had found the right words.

* * *

 

A whimper escaped her. _Good girl_. She wanted to be a good girl.

She tried to say something sexy in response, but nothing but breath passed over her lips. She wet her lips with her tongue. Her mouth was full of the taste of him, clean and masculine. The faintest trace of cologne or aftershave had reached her nose while they were kissing. She thought it was cologne, designed enhancement to his own natural scent, warmed by his body heat.

Flynn was sexy, he was handsome, and she wanted him. He kissed like someone with experience. He touched her like someone with confidence. She wanted him, and that made her feel… normal.

His hands were under her blouse: hot, smooth skinned, and dexterous. Long, agile fingers. When the moved down over her hips, there was strength in their grip. Like a musician’s hands, dancing over resistant ivory keys and eliciting obedient response in pure, vibrant notes of music. He whispered to her again. She liked that. It made her feel that he could keep her secrets.

“Take your shirt off,” he said, “and your skirt.” Without another thought she was obeying him. She slithered her silk blouse over her head, uncaring of the hairpins catching on it and being carried to the ground with the thick silk. Her skirt unzipped at the side and dropped to the floor. She stepped out of it as he maneuvered her backward onto her bed. He kicked off shoes and wriggled out of socks without breaking step.

 _What a liar,_ she wanted to tell him. _You do dance._

She couldn’t get her shoes off with the ankle straps still buckled. He didn’t seem to care. But she could undo the buttons of his trousers. The weight of his suspenders pulled the trousers off as he moved her up further onto the bedding, on the center of the bed and in line with the headboard. She started working on the small buttons of his shirt, bottom to top. He took off his tie and helped, top to bottom.

She looked at Flynn when he shucked his shirt. Dark colored, body contouring boxer briefs. Chest hair. _Oh my lord._ There wasn’t enough light to see clearly, just what came through the window, but she thought he had an innie.

He swooped down but didn’t lay over her. He didn’t kiss her mouth. Instead, his lips went to her body, first a long kiss over her heart chakra, then a suggestive, lingering press of lips just below her navel, on her sacral chakra point. His head moved into position between her legs, hooking one of her knees over his shoulder, and then he lovingly went to work with lips and tongue.

Whether from his saliva or her wet response, her silk panties dampened until they were almost non-existent. But the barrier, the thin, sheer barrier, delineated every sensation for her. Tiny, mewling sounds started in her pharynx. She swallowed them. She clamped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes tightly.

“Relax,” he coaxed, lifting his head and kissing the inside of her raised thigh. He opened his mouth and put teeth against her skin. Elsa moved up on her elbows and watched him lightly biting her. He ran his wet lips over her skin. “Let go,” he cajoled. He looked at her with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “I’ve got you covered.”

He nudged some of the bedding under her hips. The extra padding pushed her angle up, and she lay back to take a more comfortable position. _Why not,_ she thought to herself, _when I’ve already come this far_.

Flynn returned to his act of pleasuring. His thumbs worked under the edge of her panties, adding manipulation to the pressure of his roving lips. His tongue was as agile as his fingers. He sucked, while his tongue, still held back by silk, explored.

When she climaxed, she closed her fists so tightly that her manicured fingernails felt like razors against the skin of her palms. She curled up on her side and closed her legs as soon as Flynn began to move up onto the bed beside her. She rolled away so that he wouldn’t touch her.

As soon as the singing of her nerves stopped feeling like electrocution, she got up from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom connected to her room. She closed the door and turned on the light. As an afterthought, she opened the tap to create noise. The tumble of water echoed in the tiled room.

_Too much too much too much._

She splashed her face without feeling whether the water was warm or cold. She daubed dry and then checked her makeup. Rather than touching up, she wiped off the pale lipstick that remained. Determining that her eyes were fine, she let them be. She took off her soaked panties and tossed them into the sink, under the running water. After a moment’s consideration, she took off her bra, then wrapped herself up in the dark pink chenille robe instead of the pearl grey silk one. She crouched down and took off her shoes. She turned off the faucet, squeezed the water out of the panties, and tossed them into the empty tub.

Flynn was lying lengthwise across her bed when she stepped out of the bathroom. His head was on her pillow. She turned on the softest light, then picked his clothes up from the floor and let them slide out of her arms onto the bed as she stood beside it.

“Can you go now?” she asked, her flat murmur almost not a question.

He studied her with a quizzical smile on his face. “What?”

She tried to meet his eyes, but she could not look up from the space in her bed not filled with his body. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Flynn said, rolling up to a sitting position in the center of her bed. “Everything’s alright.” He pat the bed beside her. “Come here, sit down.”

She wanted to, she really did. She wanted to sit beside him and let him soothe her with whatever he would say. He could put his arm around her. They could have sex, ordinary, man-and-woman sex. Then he could go home.

“I just want you to go,” she said.

He looked down at his clothes. Without another word of protest, he began to get dressed. Elsa felt as if a huge weight slipped off her shoulders. Her sigh was an audible one.

Flynn didn’t say anything until he was fully dressed again, even to his suit coat. Standing closer to the door than to her, he said, “I can let myself out.” He didn’t sound angry. Still, she couldn’t look at him while he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Periwinkle uses they/them, but when it's Flynn's point of view, he's thinking in she/her. (I feel so ugh doing that.)
> 
> ["Working Single-O”](http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2013/01/07/a-pickpockets-tale) means when a pickpocket works without a crew
> 
> I thought it fitting, since only one of them got an "o" (orgasm) in spite of his hard work...


	6. Layer 6: Bitter Chocolate

Layer 6: Bitter Chocolate

“Out of Time with the Music”

Anna saw a light under the door of Elsa’s room. As quietly as she could, she opened the door and looked through the crack. No one was in bed with Elsa. Somewhat disappointed, Anna wondered how Elsa’s dinner with the mysterious hottie had gone. Elsa was lying on her bed, curled up around her pillow, and her pretty clothes were scattered on the floor. She was wearing the short chenille bathrobe that made her legs look like a model’s.

Anna pulled the door mostly closed before she knocked on the frame. “Elsa? I can see your light.”

“Go away, Anna,” came Elsa’s voice, muffled by the door and -- probably -- the pillow.

Anna opened the door again and crept in. She tiptoed across the carpet. When she reached Elsa’s bed, she crouched down beside it and lifted her head up until her eyes were just past the level of the bedding. “Elsa… psst!” Elsa played asleep, just like she had always done since they had been little. Feeling playful, Anna climbed up on the bed beside her sister. “El-sa,” she sing-songed.

“Go to sleep, Anna,” Elsa groaned.

Anna flopped down. The bed bounced, and Elsa lifted her head. Anna saw the weary sadness in her face but didn’t think it was anything but a passing mood. She knew her sister was secretly as much of a night owl as Anna was herself. Elsa was better at getting up early in the morning, that was the difference.

Anna sighed theatrically. “I caaaaan’t,” she said. “If I’m awake, I’m awake. Let’s do something.”

“Not now,” Elsa declined.

“Are you all _tired out_ ,” Anna asked, weighting her tone with implication, “from an evening alone with _Flynn_? Hmm? How was it?”

“My car was wrecked,” Elsa said. She sat up and folded her legs in a loose Sukhasana.

“Oh my gosh are you OK?” Anna exclaimed.

“It was parked.” Elsa rubbed her temple.

“Oh,” Anna said. “I’m sorry that happened,” she offered in sympathy. “Good thing we have good insurance, right?” She hoped to lighten the mood.

“Anna, I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow.” Elsa always found a way to shut down a conversation, and she was at it again. “I have to deal with the car, and I have to replace my phone, and confirm the caterer for your party. I still have a hundred things to do for your party.”

“Well, I can do that,” Anna suggested. “I mean, it’s my coming out party. What better way to show I’m an adult than by handling some of the party planning?”

“You have no idea how much goes into these things,” Elsa accused.

“Of course I don’t! We’ve been like hermits, here. And nevermind me, what about you? You didn’t even have a birthday cake for your twenty-first.”

“Yes, I did,” Elsa argued.

“I brought you a slice of chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake because you wouldn’t even go out to dinner.”

“It had a candle in it,” Elsa said. A dimple formed at the corner of her mouth, indicating that she was suppressing a smile.

“So now we’re going to have a big party. Even if I’m the ‘deb,’ it’s for you, too. If we don’t uphold the tradition of throwing parties for rich people, what will the one-percent _think_?” Anna brought the conversation back to her original offer. “Let me take care of some of the planning. You’ve already done, like, everything. Tell me what’s left, and I can do it.”

Elsa considered. “I’ll get you a list in the morning,” she acquiesced. “Now can you go to your own room?”

“One more thing.” Anna poked Elsa in the upper arm for emphasis. “So Flynn Rider. On a scale of one to ten?”

“Ten,” Elsa answered on a heavy exhalation, maybe too quickly, Anna thought. “Well, no -- an eight.” That was more like Elsa. She probably downgraded him for ordering the wrong wine with dinner.

Anna narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Did you… kiss?” A distressed expression filled Elsa’s face. Anna knew she had hit a mark. “Oooh, is he a good kisser? Did you make out?”

“Anna!”

“You _did_ ,” Anna concluded smugly. She was glad that she had given Flynn a pep talk earlier. “When are you going to see him again?”

“I don’t know,” Elsa answered.

“You _are_ going to see him again, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Elsa repeated. “I mean, we didn’t make plans.”

“Well, I have plans for tomorrow night, so if you don’t want to be having pea soup with Kai and Gerda, you’d better _make_ some plans.” She was dying to tell Elsa about Hans, but she wanted Elsa to ask her.

“That’s… fine. Now, Anna, I really am tired.” Elsa made a shooing motion with her hands. “Sweet dreams.”

Anna shuffled away to her own room. She fell into bed intending to sleep until as late as possible the next day. It was Saturday, after all! Plus, she would be up late into the night with her green eyed Prince Charming.

To give Elsa and Flynn space, she had spent the evening at Duke’s Chowder House, watching the game in the bar and eating alone. She had sort of hoped that Hans would magically appear, like he had when she hadn’t been paying attention to where the pier ended. She loved going down to the waterfront when it was full of people and activity. Summer tourism made for a lot of fun distractions. No one could help bumping other people in those kind of crowds; it wasn’t just her.

After Duke’s got too quiet, she had taken a long walk up Eastlake to the Zoo Tavern until closing. She gave a large tip to the Uber driver that took her home. He had been nice, even though he smelled like Axe, with a hint of large, furry animal. That was unusual, but no way was she going to report him for it.

* * *

 

First thing in the morning, Flynn knocked on his half-brother’s door. Flynn had hardly been able to get a wink of sleep. His mind had turned on _what he had done wrong_ and _what he needed to do next._ Flynn didn’t give up easily. With a strategy in mind, as soon as the sun was up, Flynn zipped over to Hans’s condominium.

Hans opened the door in a robe, looking too groggy to be properly foul tempered by the early visit. “Good gods, Eugene,” he exclaimed. “It’s--” he looked at where his Bulova watch would be on his wrist, had he been dressed, “too damn early in the morning. What are you doing here?”

“Gooood morning, Hans!” Flynn greeted as he barged into the expensively decorated interior of the condo unit. He turned to face Hans, who was closing the front door. “Say, what was the name of that piano teacher that took your virginity? She wrote that gawd-awful fictionalization that everyone was reading.”

Hans woke up enough to be affronted. “I’ll have you know that _Slow Tango in Southern Isles_ won an award! Critics considered it to be, and I quote, a ‘poignant tale of innocence and mutual discovery.’ It has a permanent place on Elliot Bay Books’ local stories bookshelf!”

“Yes! That’s the title,” Flynn said. He beelined to the short bookshelf and scanned titles. “A-ha! Found it!”

“What do you need her name for?”

“I need piano lessons,” Flynn explained while distracted reading the About the Author on the dust jacket. “I assumed she was cheap.”

Hans took the book out of Flynn’s hands. “And _why_ do you need piano lessons?” Hans asked. 

“It’s for a grift,” Flynn said to downplay its importance to him. “Of course.” He had no intention of telling Hans about Elsa, not with Hans plotting to scoop up Anna for himself. 

“Oh, just learn it from Youtube!” Hans said scathingly. “Like your psychoanalysis technique!”

Somewhere around three in the morning, Flynn came to the conclusion that Elsa needed more than a light touch. She needed someone who fit a certain ideal in her mind, an ideal that almost certainly lined up with her deceased father’s virtues, he guessed. Flynn’s father hadn’t been any kind of candidate for Father of the Year, so he didn’t have the context to compare, but from what little news Flynn had been able to find online about the Arendelles, Papa Arendelle had been a model citizen. The society pages went quiet about them after Anna’s accident, with only a brief mention, in Agnarr and Iduna’s obituary, of the fashionable parties they had given prior.

At the same time, no one would ever replace Dear Old Dad for a girl who lost her pop at a young age. This was no simple Electra Complex. Elsa was chained to the family business, her creative path thwarted by perceived duty to the ghost of Dad.

He had remembered her nostalgic happiness when she told him about listening while her father played piano. Picking up piano playing wouldn’t be an overnight achievement, but Flynn had a feeling he was in it for the long game with Elsa. It was never too soon to start practicing the needed skills to close the deal, even if negotiations had only just begun.

And what negotiations. He still had the smell of her on his face, even after a long shower to unwind. He could feel the need in her kiss, just by closing his eyes. The post-orgasmic flush in her cheeks had almost made up for being thrown out without clearing home base.

She was beautiful. Fragile and beautiful, and he wanted to steal her from herself. All high risk theft started by figuring out the point of entry, then how to get the goods out. You wouldn’t just toss fine art porcelain into a sack and high tail out a window. Some scores needed extra finesse.

Flynn declined coffee with Hans. Instead, he took a drive to Pike’s Place Market, where the vendors were still setting up. He bought a large bouquet of fresh flowers: lavender and freesias, with just a few pink roses among the wildflowers.

He knew the thing he would most need to do would be to be with Elsa when she filed her police report for the vandalized car. She would have to do it in person. And she would need a ride.

It was still early when he arrived at Elsa’s home, but he gambled on Elsa being the type to make an early start of the day and tackle the worst first. He remembered the gate code but used the intercom to dial up the house. He smiled into the camera. “Good morning, Kai! Would you let Elsa know I’ve arrived?”

The butler buzzed the gate open to let him in. It was Elsa, however, who met him at the front door. Her expression was cold and a little angry as she stood in the doorway, still holding the inside doorknob. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I don’t believe we made plans to see each other.”

Flynn was not perturbed. “I come bearing flowers,” he said, flourishing the bouquet on one arm, “and more importantly, a hot mocha,” he handed her the sleeved paper cup he had picked up from Cafe Nervosa. Her frown deepened at the flowers, but she took the espresso drink with a softer expression. “And, I came to offer my services as your driver.” He opened his now empty hand to indicate his vehicle.

A look of remorse came over Elsa’s countenance. “Oh, Flynn. That’s very thoughtful.” She stepped out of the path through the doorway, allowing Flynn to enter. “Please come in. I’m sorry for being so inhospitable.”

Switching the coffee cup to her other hand, she took the flowers from Flynn. She handed them to Kai, who was standing nearby ready to be of service, in whatever capacity that service had needed to take, Flynn was sure. For example: kicking their uninvited visitor off the property. Elsa closed the door behind Flynn.

“Would you like to sit? Here, let’s sit in the nook.” She led him across the hall and to a doorway of a breakfast nook. She held the coffee cup with both hands, close to her chin. The scent of espresso and chocolate had to be spiraling up the steam currents to her nose. “You didn’t have to bother yourself, though,” she said. “I was about to call a rental service.”

“If you’re more comfortable with that, I won’t press.” Flynn’s small smile exuded charm. “And it’s no bother. I thought you might like someone with you.”

“Yes, when I called the police, they told me I would have to make a report in person,” Elsa said. “Of course my insurance needs the police report number for the claim. First, I have to replace my phone. Which is the easiest, at least.” She sat down. Taking the plastic lid off the paper cup, she looked as if she would like to lick the milk foam and chocolate slivers stuck to the inside of the lid, but after a glance toward Flynn, she set the lid aside. She sipped delicately at the edge of the cup.

“My whole morning is open,” Flynn told her. “Wherever you want to go.” He settled into the bentwood chair.

Between sips, Elsa’s eyes stayed directed to the hot drink in front of her. Almost inaudibly, she said, “You’re doing it again. Coming to my rescue.” A little louder, she said, “I’m sorry for last night. I really am.”

“I’m not,” Flynn stated.

Elsa raised her eyes with a questioning look. Flynn answered it with a warm smile. He put his hands on the table.

“But I didn’t... I mean, I--” Elsa started, flustered. Her cheeks colored a fetching hue of pink.

“Don’t think of it as rescue,” Flynn said, knowing his interruption would save her further embarrassment. “Think of it as proof.”

Elsa looked apprehensive. “Proof of what?” she ventured.

“That I’m here for you,” Flynn supplied.

She was satisfactorily bemused by his answer, but she managed to ask, “Why?”

Flynn hooked an arm over the back of his chair. “If I start listing all the things I find attractive about you, this conversation is going to get embarrassing,” he said.

“No, don’t do that,” she answered. She laughed. “Let me get my purse and see if Anna’s awake. Then we can go. Would you write down your cell phone number? I’d like to leave it with the household until I have a phone again.”

“Actually, I don’t carry a cell phone,” Flynn answered. He wondered how he was having this conversation again.

“You don’t?” Elsa asked. Unlike her sister, she didn’t pursue it. “I’ll just run upstairs. I won’t be long.”

* * *

 

Elsa had been angry when Flynn appeared because it had seemed like a violation of boundaries. She had been putting up a brave front all morning when she had felt like staying in bed and crying at the unfairness of it all. First, she explained the car situation to Gerda and Kai, who fussed over her. Then she had spent a patience-trying several minutes on hold with her insurance company. When Flynn arrived at her door, dealing with him had seemed a demand on already dwindling emotional resources.

Instead, he had turned out to be… impossible. She couldn’t believe that a man like him existed: supportive, thoughtful, prepared, and kind. Someone who would look out for her. He didn’t present all she had already accepted from him like a promissory note for a debt owed.

She couldn’t help thinking about her thoughts at her parents’ graveside, how she had petitioned their ghosts to understand her. _I’ve always had these feelings, Mama, Papa,_ she had whispered to them. _I can’t hide them. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be able to love someone of my own, not just from afar, and have someone for me like you had each other._ Her father, so capable in life. It would be just like him to reach out from the ‘other side’ to send her Flynn. Papa had always found the right man for a job, and a man is exactly who Elsa’s father would have found for her.

_You can have all the best in life,_ her father had told her, or something like it, many times. _But not if you make it harder for yourself._

When Elsa was twelve, her mother had given her an excuse. _Girls are always close, especially best friends,_ Iduna had said. _Marisol is a very pretty girl and she is growing up a little faster than you, but don’t worry, you’ll catch up! When I was a girl we practiced kissing with our pillows. That would be better, don’t you think?_ Mama had promised that Papa didn’t have to be told, but within a week, Marisol’s mother had been one more of the service staff let go. The family ate at the country club more often, and Gerda took up cooking for Elsa and Anna when their parents left them at home.

Elsa was brought out of her thoughts and back to the moment when Anna stumbled out of her room. She was wearing a big shirt, probably nothing else, and her hair was a squirrel’s nest of auburn hair. Anna stood in the hall for a moment, then turned around and shambled back into her room. Elsa caught the door before she closed it. “Anna?” Anna was back under her covers in seconds.

Sleepwalking again. “Anna,” Elsa called again. Anna seemed to be soundly asleep again. Elsa found Anna’s quilted mittens. She dug Anna’s hands out from under the covers and fit a fluffy mitten on to each one, which would make it harder for her to somnambulate out her door a second time. She made sure the velcro straps were tight around Anna’s wrists, then tucked her sister’s hands back under the covers.

In her own room, she found her purse and made sure her keys were in it. She changed her dress slacks for a pencil skirt that unconsciously co-ordinated with the colors of the tie Flynn was wearing. She checked the neatness of her single braid and traded the gold sorority lavalier for a folksy necklace with Peruvian opal.

She stood at her bedroom window and took a long, cleansing breath. As prepared as she felt she would ever be, she briskly strode to meet Flynn.

As they proceeded out the open gate, she realized that she was letting Flynn do the driving. Though he tended to talk -- to her, not other drivers -- to fill the silence, he kept his eyes on the road. He let her choose and tune the radio station. After a while, Elsa relaxed into the passenger seat.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [_"Another White Dash"_ by Butterfly Boucher (2004)](https://youtu.be/VOqEQ3Zuku4)


	7. Layer 7: Fruit Salad

“The chapter where the hanna shows up”

Hans griped as he sprinkled his special bath blend into the filling tub. He cursed Flynn under his breath. “I _need_ my beauty sleep, you bastard,” he muttered. He eased himself into the bath bubbles.

The scent of vanilla and cherry, with just a note of sandalwood oil, filled the nostrils of his patrician nose. The soothing, hot water surrounded his sunbed tanned skin. He wiggled his toes while he stretched out in the extra long bathtub.

Hans tolerated his half-brother because Flynn had his uses. The discovery of Flynn, aka Eugene Fitzherbert, had only taken a little snooping but had produced a number of good results for Hans. He was first useful, all those years ago, as evidence of Westergaard _père’s_ infidelity and therefore the reason for Hans’s mother’s excellent alimony settlement. Hans, the only one of his brothers still a minor, reaped the benefits of his parents’ disunion. The guilt money allowed young Hans to refine his desires into good taste.

Hans was even willing to admit, in the light of many a successful scheme together, that his half-brother was a better fraternal connection than all of Hans’s full brothers combined. Not a single one of the older twelve had reached out to him since Hans had moved back from Boston. Only the troubled foundling, adopted into the soon-to-be-ex-Mrs. Westergaard’s home during the divorce trial, had ever offered Hans something worth the bond of brothers: a lucrative partnership in less-than-legal activities. They were closely matched in age, Hans slightly older by months. Their competition for dominance and their very different upbringing put a strain on the first incarnation of their partnership. 

Within a year of being in the same household, Eugene took the fall for some bungled shoplifting while Hans walked away unmarked. Eugene went to juvenile hall; Hans went to boarding school. When Hans returned to the Pacific Northwest, they met up again. Eugene had reinvented himself as Flynn Rider and had become a very capable thief. Hans saw the opportunity to combine their skill sets again for greater access to a princely lifestyle.

Hans had at first stayed in Boston, Mass. -- after dropping out of university -- building up a persona and private practice specializing in the needs of older women. The needs of older women rarely required medication. In such cases, the ladies usually supplied the pharmaceuticals themselves. He passed himself off as a psychologist. All of his best progress was accomplished with the client on the couch.

When Flynn stole the idea from Hans, Hans found himself too flattered by the imitation to be angry for long. Anyway, there was a certain satisfaction to passing along his expertise. Hans could even say he enjoyed being a role model.

* * *

 

Anna woke up with a taste in her mouth reminiscent of the cheese straws she had eaten the night before. She sat up in bed. Squinting at the daylight, she started to rub her eyes. She stopped at the recognition of mittens on her hands. “Did I put these on last night?” she asked herself. Shrugging, she picked open the velcro straps and threw the mittens beside her pillows.

With a sigh that turned into a yawn, she tried to remember what day it was. When it came to her, she hopped up on her mattress and bounced with excitement. Her date with Hans! He had said she could choose the place. She had the best idea in mind.

As soon as she had dealt with her dragon breath, she dialed the number Hans had given her. She nearly swooned at the sound of his hello.

“I picked a place,” she told him, “for our date today. We’re going hiking!” He was going to love family cabin on Lake Wenatchee, Shady Glen. She and Elsa didn’t use it enough, but Anna had dragged Elsa out to the cabin over Anna’s birthday weekend in June, just a small celebration since they were doing a big party at midsummer. So Anna knew it was clean and ready for entertaining. “I know the perfect place!”

“Hiking,” Hans repeated, in that slow way people used when they thought Anna had said something crazy and needed to be humored.

“It sounds crazy, doesn’t it?” Anna asked. Disappointment hovered, ready to fall.

Hans answered without even a second of hesitation. “I love crazy,” he assured. “How do you feel about packing a picnic for dinner _al fresco_? How soon will you be ready for me to pick you up?”

“Oh, I was born ready,” Anna said. She winced. “Um, that was awkward. I mean, I’m awkward. You’re not awkward.” She stopped before she could embarrass herself further. “I’m all ready to go.”

“Perfect,” Hans replied. “I’ll be at your door before two o’clock.”

Anna looked at the clock on her dresser. She had half an hour to put together the sexiest outfit possible with hiking boots. She also had to tame her hair. Why did she never remember, when she showered at night, to blow dry before going to bed? Sleeping on damp hair always produced the worst tangles. She attacked with a Tangle Teezer while she tore through her closet. “Ah-ha!” she crowed at the glimpse of a large sunflower print fallen to the back of her closet. She dug out the green Patagonia dress Elsa had bought for her and gave it a sniff. She knew it was clean because she had never worn it. It smelled like closet sachet; it passed muster. The rest of the gift box was at the bottom of the closet, too. Anna picked through the tissue for the matching accessories.

She was just stuffing a few essential overnight items in her backpack when Kai let her know that Hans had arrived and was waiting for her in the sun parlor. She congratulated herself on winning the race as she hurried down the stairs in her socks, carrying her boots.

What Kai called a sun parlor was just another underused room in the too-big house. It didn’t hold much of interest; the TV was in the home theater room. Anna liked all the old family portraits that filled the hallway near the parlor, though. As she slid by over the polished hardwood, getting a nice glide in her thick cotton socks, she gave little hello-and-goodbye waves to her ancestors.

Like an ice skater, she performed a neat turn and continued sliding backwards while she gave them a final bow. Before friction naturally slowed her to a halt, she thudded into a solid body unexpectedly behind her. “Oh!” 

Hans caught her in his arms before her feet could slide out from under her and drop her on her butt. He took one of her hands in his and turned her in place until they were facing each other. “May I have this dance?” he asked. His physique, showcased in a slim fit henley shirt and dark denim jeans, took her breath away.

Anna giggled. “You may,” she answered, but she was happy when he pulled her close and held her without any other movement. She gazed into his eyes. “Dreamy,” she sighed.

Hans smiled, showing his perfect, white teeth. “I think you’re staring,” he teased.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” she said without thinking. When she heard herself, she blushed so hotly she could feel it coloring all the way down her neck to her modest cleavage. “Um.”

His smile widened. He brought his face closer to hers. She closed her eyes just as his nose rubbed the side of her nose. The hoped-for kiss reached her lips, his lips softly tugging at her upper lip. Then he drew away. Anna wanted to chase after his lips with her own, but Hans had a firm grip on her waist, and when he straightened, he was out of reach to kiss.

“So where is this perfect hiking spot?” he asked. His hands worked down from her waist and cupped her derriere.

“We have a cabin on a lake. With beds and everything,” Anna blurted out. “So we can stay overnight, or… or…” she meant to say that she wasn’t expecting an overnight date, although she was, but Hans finished her sentence with a different thought.

“Or stay the rest of the weekend?” he completed. Heavy with implication, his voice had a purring quality.

“Do we have mental synchronization, or what?” Anna asked.

* * *

 

At Elsa’s first stop, she was lucky to be early. The mobile phone store filled with Saturday-rush customers minutes after she went in. Several people waited to be helped while the clerk clicked away at her computer terminal, reactivating Elsa’s phone number and setting Elsa up with her replacement hardware.

“You’re quite a long time customer,” the clerk chattered while she typed. “By the way, you are eligible for the free phone promotion going on this weekend. Are you interested in hearing more about it?”

Elsa thought about Flynn waiting in the load/unload zone outside. “I’m happy with my current phone,” she said.

“Well, you could stay with your same iPhone model for your replacement, and add a line for the free phone. Since you already have a family plan, it wouldn’t add to your monthly service charge.” The clerk opened a drawer and took out a sleek box. “There’s just a small setup fee.”

Elsa was about to demure, but a thought stopped her. She knew it was pushy, and she shouldn’t do it. “If it won’t take long to add on,” she found herself saying. She felt pressured by the number of people still waiting for service.

On the drive to where her car was parked, the extra phone in her purse weighed on Elsa’s mind. It was a very nice phone, she told herself.

_Flynn doesn’t want a cell phone. If he did, he would already have one. You just wanted to get out of the store quickly. That’s fine. It expedited things._

_But what if I need to call him when he’s not at home or work?_ she argued with herself.

_You’re not giving him a phone AND a line on your account. That is controlling and -- you know this -- completely overstepping boundaries._

_I’m not telling him he has to give out the number,_ she mentally wrestled. _It can be my line to him. Just me._

_If you tell him that, he’ll say yes._

_Will he?_

“Elsa?” Flynn asked.

Elsa jumped a little in her seat. She quickly collected her composure. “Are we here?” She saw that he had parked directly across from her damaged car.

“Why don’t you call the police now?” he suggested. “If they can’t come to the scene, you can take pictures, and we’ll go to the station afterward. It’s a few blocks from here. Don’t call 911.” He opened up the glove box and took a notepad out. “Here is the non-emergency number. Call this one.”

“Have you done this before?” Elsa asked, dialing.

Flynn gave her a nonchalant shrug. “I know how it’s usually done,” he said.

As he predicted might happen, the police told Elsa they wouldn’t send anyone out, and that she needed to come in to file her report in person. She told them she was on her way. Then she called her dealership and arranged for them to pick up her Mercedes. While on the call, Flynn reminded her to tell them to send a flatbed tow truck, since her tires were flat.

“I don’t want to sit here until they get here,” Elsa told Flynn. “I left them my number. Do you think we could file the police report before the tow shows up?”

“Sure, I think, uh, we could get that done in about half an hour. If the tow driver arrives, I could come back here if you’re not finished, and make sure he has what he needs.”

“I think, just the key,” Elsa supplied.

Flynn got out of the car, came around to her side, and opened the door for her. She hadn’t been intentionally waiting for him, but it felt good to be waited on by him. She got out of the car, allowing him to assist her.

After taking an exhaustive number of photos with her new phone, Elsa and Flynn made their way down the hill to the station. For Capitol Hill on a weekend, the hour was too early to create a wait. In a matter of minutes, Elsa had her paperwork filled out, had it reviewed, and had started to head out with Flynn.

They were delayed in the lobby by large group of police officers gabbing with an old timer in civilian clothes. The balding, white-haired man was at least in his sixties, but the gathered officers ranged from young to old and included a few detectives, recognizable by their off-the-rack suits.

“Let’s go around. There’s another door the other way,” Flynn murmured to Elsa. He put a guiding hand at her elbow.

The answer for his avoidance spoke up as he was turning Elsa toward the other exit. “Hey, there. I know you, don’t I? Come over here a moment.” The old timer beckoned.

Elsa wasn’t sure if the stranger meant her or Flynn. She certainly didn’t recognize him. She looked at Flynn with a silent question.

“Come here, son! I think I do know you,” the man insisted.

“I think you’re thinking of someone else,” Flynn said. He gave up on the secondary exit and started urging Elsa toward the closer doors. The cluster of police officers separated. By their new places around the lobby, they herded Flynn and Elsa closer to the balding man. Flynn appeared distinctly uncomfortable.

The man poked his finger in the air, pointing at Flynn. “You’re the little genius,” he said.

The accusation made no sense to Elsa, but she noticed the wooden quality of Flynn’s still expression. She produced a congenial smile for the strange man and said, “We really do have to go. Excuse us, please.”

“We were all so sorry about your old man, Eugene,” the stranger continued. “He was a good cop. You were still just a tyke when it happened, weren’t you?” He turned his attention to Elsa. “We called him the little genius. For Eugene, ya know? His pop was Marty Flynnigan, a great cop, a good man.” He redirected back to Flynn. “I worked thirty-five years as a sketch artist, including aging up lost kids from their old photos. You think I wouldn’t recognize the kid we taught how to pick locks, how to take latents, and all that? You were somethin’. Smart as a whip.”

Flynn gave the man a stiff smile, but rather than saying anything, he pushed his way through to the door and walked stiffly out of the police station with the old policeman calling him back. Elsa jogged after Flynn. 

“What was that all about?” she asked. An uncomfortable suspicion sat in her mind, and she didn’t want to give it attention, but she couldn’t let the incident go by without at least asking one question.

They crossed the street. Flynn stopped, and with hands on his hips, he said, “I never liked the name Eugene, and I changed it as soon as I was old enough.” He resumed walking back in the direction of his car

“So your father was a policeman?” She considered how little she knew about Flynn.

A short, rueful laugh preceded his answer. “Foster dad.” He walked a few more steps, then stopped until Elsa caught up. “What do you say to a stop for coffee or a scone? In case that tow truck takes a while?”

“I’ve had enough caffeine,” Elsa said. She wondered if he hadn’t picked up coffee for himself when he picked up her mocha earlier. “If you want to stop, though, I don’t mind.” He had managed to know just what type of drink to get her. From what she recalled, the flowers had been nicely fitting, too. They weren’t her favorite flowers, but they were ones she liked, and showed forethought in the choosing.

“We’ll be having lunch soon enough. I can wait,” he answered.

“Flynn, I really can’t,” Elsa said. “My sister’s debutante ball is in ten days, and I need to make a number of calls to finalize details for it.” She felt dishonest making the excuse, because Anna would be reviewing the band’s playlist and confirming RSVP numbers against the caterer’s plate count, and the only thing Elsa absolutely had to do herself was the final fitting of her own dress, for which she had a weekday appointment. “It’s best if I go home after we’re finished here.”

“I’ll provide whatever you need,” Flynn replied. “But let me ask you this,” he continued as they approached his car. “Have you had anything to eat since that junk food last night?”

Elsa sighed. “No.”

“Aha,” he said.

“Are you scolding me now?” she asked.

Flynn unlocked his car. He leaned against the hood. Elsa stood beside him. “Me? I wouldn’t dare to,” he said. His eyes held a teasing shine that told her otherwise.

“Anna’s the breakfast eater. I don’t usually have more than a bite in the mornings.” His mild expression made her want to justify her habits all the more. “Alright, then, what do you eat for breakfast? What did you have this morning?”

“This morning was an atypical situation,” Flynn replied.

“Aha,” Elsa said in the same tone Flynn had used.

Flynn leaned toward her, hooked his arm around her waist, and pulled her against him. She fell against his chest. Her hands had to go somewhere, so she left them resting against his lapels. It was inevitable that he would kiss her; she wasn’t unwilling. The thrill of kissing in the street, in public view, added.

“Let me take care of you,” Flynn murmured while he nuzzled at her neck. He knew exactly where to put his lips.

 _Maybe if it’s just kissing,_ Elsa thought. The kissing was good. They didn’t have to go farther. She might be able to set some limits. _But how am I supposed to tell him?_ She could make a list. She was good at making lists. “Flynn,” she said, breathlessly because the end of his nose tickled a spot behind her ear, “we should talk about us.”

She didn’t know if he had heard her, because just then, the tow truck pulled up. The next ten minutes were taken up with the process of easing Elsa’s Mercedes out of the parking spot and onto the flatbed. Elsa became tense watching, so she let Flynn interact with the tow truck driver while she waited in Flynn’s car. She used the time productively by checking off some of the smaller to-do items for Anna’s party.

She was tempted to take care of the confirmations she had left for Anna to do. In the end, she decided to trust that Anna would get them done correctly and on time. Elsa knew that she shouldn’t second guess her sister as often as she did. It was a point of friction in their relationship and had been for years. Elsa knew her sister deserved to be treated as an adult, and that Anna couldn’t contribute without being given the chance, but it was hard for Elsa to let go when it was something important _._

The party was going to be important. The sisters didn’t have purely social connections, at least not as a family, and thus the guests included business relationships and influential people that the sisters did not know well. Anna, who was much better at people-related matters than Elsa was, had assembled the guest list with Kai’s assistance. Elsa suspected that the guest list for Anna’s party repeated the attendance list of her parents’ funeral.

She heard the tow truck pull away and looked up to see Flynn stepping into the car. “That’s done,” he said. He inserted his key into the ignition but did not turn it. He did, however, turn to her. “You wanted to talk.”

 _He did hear._ She thought about what she wanted to say. “I think we should.” She looked at her hands. “Could we go somewhere that we can talk? I don’t want to talk about this sitting in your car.” She wondered if Anna was out of bed yet. “Not my house.”

Flynn started the car. “How about mine?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“It’s not far,” he assured. “The Corona Lofts.”

Elsa perked up. “You’re in the restored Corona building?”

“You know it?” He laughed. “Of course you do, Miss Architect. I take it you’d like to see it inside?” He started driving.

“Yes I would--” Elsa started to say, but then checked her enthusiasm. _Where do you come from, Flynn Rider? You always have the right answer._ She ended up speaking her thought aloud. “Where do you come from? I can hardly believe you’re real.”

Flynn raised his eyebrows. “I think I’ve already proved I’m flesh and blood,” he said.

He didn’t have to elaborate. Her mind went directly to carnal matters.

“I hope you don’t mind the walk up. Historical buildings don’t have parking or elevators. Luckily, I’m on the second floor.”

The change of subject let Elsa avoid thinking about Flynn’s body. It wasn’t as though she had never thought about male bodies before, but she wasn’t convinced she would know what to do with what was between his legs. No doubt, he would know what to do with it when -- if -- when the time came. _I’m going around in circles,_ Elsa thought, _on this_. _Am I attracted to him or not? Am I attracted to men or not?_

 _Maybe just Flynn._ That was possible, wasn’t it? She could be attracted to his _personality_. She could be appreciating him _aesthetically._ He was comfortable in his skin, and that was attractive. He had a lot of the same traits she liked in some women, like the clean smell of him, his hair long enough to curl fingers into, his skin hot and smooth when it rubbed against her skin…

“You’re quiet,” he said as he finished parking.

“Just… lost in my thoughts,” she said. She put her hand on the door handle. Her hand lingered on the handle until Flynn, getting out of the car and coming around to her door, opened her door for her, thus answering a question of whether or not she would continue accepting his service. He held the door of his building for her, and then, at the stairs, he let her precede him by a step. She admired the stairway, and the lobby, and the wide open spaces even before seeing the interior of his loft apartment.

Flynn ushered her in. “Here you go,” he said. “I would give you a tour, but as you can see, it’s an open floor plan.”

Flynn hadn’t broken up the airy space with screens or large furniture. Light, modern pieces provided seating and surfaces. A few simple rugs accessorized a floor of shining maple that reflected the sunlight from the windows along one wall. The wall was bare brick, original to the building. Elsa walked around, admiring the exposed columns and beams. A row of stairs led up to the railed loft where his bedroom would be.

She peered into the tiled bathroom. “Do you mind if I wash my hands?” she asked. Getting his permission, she strolled in and investigated the decorating details. She scrubbed the police station dirt off in the vintage sink, using Flynn’s aloe vera soap. When she returned to the center of the room she saw that Flynn was in his kitchen. He had removed his coat; it lay draped over the sectional couch. “Are you cooking?” she asked in surprise.

“Want to help?” he asked. He beckoned her over. She approached, but stood by with hands folded together. She watched him rinse a part of a bunch of fresh basil, which he then handed on a cutting board to her. “You can break the leaves off the stems while I do this part. I hope you don’t mind that I leave the seeds in.” He grabbed a freshly washed tomato and sliced it with a sharp knife into thick slices.

Elsa dutifully separated the fragrant leaves of basil. After cutting up the tomato, he brought out a ball of fresh mozzarella, which he also sliced, then assembled the tomato and cheese slices on two salad plates, with a squiggle of olive oil at their bases. He glanced at her, as if checking for reaction, several times through the process.

Elsa tore some of the basil into smaller pieces and sprinkled the herb confetti on top to complete the caprese. She took the kitchen towel that he offered and wiped off the dampness from the wet basil. She helped carry linens and forks to a coffee table and a low couch where they could sit. Flynn brought the dishes, two glasses, and a tall bottle of cucumber soda. 

“Now what did you want to talk about?” Flynn asked, pouring soda into glasses.

The question caught her off guard. She felt derailed by the ambiance of his beautiful building, by the cooperative assembly of food. She laid her linen on her lap and picked up her plate and fork. Flynn drank from his glass before echoing her and eating his food. 

“I’m surprised,” she said after a bite. “I would have imagined you as more of a steak person than a salad eater.”

“I love a good steak,” Flynn admitted.

“I didn’t realize you cooked, either,” she commented.

“I’m full of surprises,” he answered.

“And mystery,” Elsa said.

Flynn smiled, lips closed. “Usually I would say something at this point, about unlocking mysteries. There would be some banter. And then we would go up,” he pointed at the stairs to the loft without breaking eye contact with her, “those stairs, for the rest of an afternoon.”

“‘Usually’? Do you do that often?”

“I don’t often meet someone like you.”

 _Very smooth._ “I didn’t come here to go upstairs with you,” she clarified. “I wanted to talk.”

“About us,” he said.

“Yes.” She picked up her glass and drank.

“Sweetheart, you seem nervous.”

“You’re already calling me ‘sweetheart’,” she said. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“What if I said, ‘Come over here, Sweetheart, and sit on Daddy’s lap’?” he asked.

“Flynn!” Elsa shot to her feet. She would have walked away, but stepping around the close quarters of the coffee table and couch made that an inelegant option. She crossed her arms and hugged her elbows. “Please, don’t. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. I’m not sure about you.”

“Elsa,” he offered, “you don’t have to be sure.”

“What about you? You seem very sure of yourself.”

“I’m not.” He gestured at the empty space on the couch. “Sit down? You’re right. We should talk.”

“I want some rules,” Elsa said. 

Flynn’s expression became skeptical. “Hm.”

Elsa sat. “Rules are the navigation points of good conduct,” Elsa said, paraphrasing one of her parents’ mottos. “I don’t mean arbitrary rules, I mean personal ones.” She wet her lips. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. I’m feeling a little lost,” she took a deep breath to ease her nerves, “and the way to address that is to draw some straight lines.”

“Straight lines are tightropes, Elsa,” Flynn countered.

“That’s not right,” she said with a shake of her head. “That’s like saying you don’t see the space the lines define. The space on the inside.”

“So then it’s a box, a closed room,” said Flynn. “Where are the windows and doors? How do you get out of there?”

Elsa couldn’t help a smile at the way he followed her metaphors, even though he was changing their meaning. “What I’m saying is, having some rules is like having a building plan. If we want to build something, that takes a foundation.”

She looked up from her hands to see him regarding her with a hopeful face. He asked, when their eyes met, “Are we building something together?”

“We seem to be.” She looked away.

“I think so, too,” he answered.

Smoothing her skirt with her open palms, Elsa started in on the hard part. “Rule one,” she said. “Until we know each other better, things like last night won’t… it’s too soon for that.” She quickly glanced up from the floor to check for reaction. He waited, listening. “That is, I think… I rushed… how that went. I wasn’t ready to be with a man… like you.” _Coward,_ she admonished herself.

 _He never has to know_ , she bargained _. If you’re with him, it won’t matter that you’re attracted to women. It won’t be relevant anymore. It won’t show._

“You’re being very honest,” he said. 

Elsa gave a little laugh another shake of her head. 

He went on, “I don’t want to you to feel rushed. When you want to stop, we’ll stop. You don’t have to decide when that is before we get started.”

“No, I think I do,” she answered.

“Well, let’s not make it a set number of dates or days. That puts a lot of pressure on you.”

“I was thinking three months,” she admitted.

He exhaled heavily. “Wow,” he commented, quietly. “OK, three months until third base.”

“Rule two,” Elsa began.

“Rule two,” Flynn said, “We get comfortable with each other.”

“What?” Elsa asked.

“Look at us. Look at this gap between us.” He stood up. He stepped toward her and offered his hand. Wanting to give him something after he had so mildly agreed to her first rule, she took his hand. When he gave it a small tug, she stood up, too.

He headed toward the stairs. Before she could voice a question, he said, “It’s just a room. Not even a room. It’s a level.” He kept her hand grasped in his as they took the stairs up to the loft. At the bedroom, he let her hand go. He leaned against the railing. He presented the space with arms out.“Where I sleep,” he said.

Elsa wandered around, taking in the intimate surroundings. She tried to dispel the awkwardness she felt at being in Flynn’s bedroom. His room with a bed in it, where he slept and kept his clothes, she told herself. A tidy, orderly room, she noticed. The only things out of place were a couple of hardbound books and a tablet left lying on his bed. 

“So you’re not anti-technology,” she noted.

“Not at all,” Flynn answered. 

“But no computer.” She considered. “And no TV?”

“I don’t like to complicate things,” he said. 

“No plants. No pets.” She made herself sit down on his bed. The mattress was less firm than she had expected, a good mattress but thick and soft like a cloud. She stood back up and started back down the stairs. Flynn followed.

She asked him, “Will you come to Anna’s party? I need a date.”

“Happily. White tie?”

“Not even close,” she sighed. “Cocktail attire was the sensible choice once I saw the dress Anna wanted to wear. She was right. It’s summer, and no one will want to wear a tie, let alone formal wear.” She speculated, “You have white tie attire? I would love to see you in it sometime.”

“I clean up pretty well,” he said.

“You’re silly. I’ve only seen you in suits,” she said. She watched him carry away their dishes to his kitchen. She found herself trying to picture him in blue jeans and a T-shirt.

“That’s because you haven’t met Island Flynn yet,” he said with a lilt in his voice.

“Island Flynn?”

“You can find him on an island, tanned and rested and…” he paused, “and someplace warm and sunny.”

“Hmm, you sound like Olaf,” she said.

“Is there no Island Elsa?” Flynn asked.

“No, I prefer snow covered mountains,” she answered. She watched him buzz around his kitchen. “Are you making a fruit salad, now?”

He carried a platter of strawberries, grapes, and other fruit out of the kitchen. “A _melange,_ ” he said. They sat again on the couch, this time closer together. Elsa moved her purse out of the way. She picked it up again and set it on her lap.

“Rule three,” she said.

“The last one for today,” Flynn said.

“OK,” she agreed. “Rule three. Each of us gets to make one irrational request, and the other has to go along with it, no questions asked.”

“One irrational request. So, anything?” Flynn grinned. He waggled his eyebrows.

Elsa couldn’t help giggling at his hamming. “As long as it doesn’t contradict any of the other rules,” she clarified.

“No wishing for more wishes,” Flynn put forward.

“That’s right,” Elsa agreed.

“Only one?”

“Only one.”

“Sure,” he agreed. He rested his arm along the back of the couch.

She took the new phone, in its box, out of her purse. She handed it to Flynn. He took it and considered it with a serious look set on his face. “I want to be able to reach you anytime,” she said. “That’s my irrational request.”

“Are you sure that’s how you want to use your one request?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sure.” She wasn’t at all sure. The request was irrational even to her. But there it was; she had asked it.

Flynn set the phone down on the table. “I want to ask you a lot of questions about this,” he said.

“No questions asked,” Elsa repeated in a small voice.

“No questions.” Flynn shrugged it off.

Elsa ate a piece of dragon fruit on a bamboo pick bent like a tiny sabre. She put her purse on the floor beside her seat. “The line is on my account,” she said without looking at Flynn. “You don’t have to give out the number to anyone else.”

“I don’t plan to,” he said. He leaned back. “Going back to Rule Two,” he said. His left arm was still across the back of the sectional. He beckoned her with his right hand to come closer.

She scooted over until she fit into the crook of his arm. It was nice. She tipped her head back, inviting him to kiss her. He stroked the tresses that framed her face, then caressed her cheek. His fingers trailed over her neck. When he finally kissed her, she was lightheaded from his touch.

He drew his embracing arm in and cupped the back of her neck with his hand while they kissed. She gave herself over to the pleasure of contact. Their saliva mingled as their tongues slid over each other. She felt wanton, but also more in control than she had been since meeting Flynn.

* * *

 

In the cabin, Shady Glen, Anna squealed with sexual ecstasy while the bed rhythmically rattled from Hans’s motion. She clutched at his naked back. She bit his shoulder.

His movement stopped with a growl and a final thrust. “Oh, m’lady,” he gasped into her ear.

“Oh my lord,” Anna sighed. She hadn’t climaxed this time, but sex with Hans had been sweaty and hot, as good as she had imagined. He had taken care of her first, and she still tingled from his finger technique. She stole a kiss from his panting lips.

“Mmm.” He chuckled, rolling off of her. She snuggled into him and laid her head against his chest. He put his arms around her.

“I never want to leave this bed,” Anna crooned.

“I could shackle you to it,” Hans suggested. “Keep you naked and waiting on my every beastly desire.” His fingertip traveled small circles on her breast before wandering on to other sensitive spots. “Mine and no one else’s.”

“I don’t want to be anyone else’s.” She nipped at his fingertip when it ran over her lips.

“Anna,” Hans whispered, “I knew from the moment we met--”

“--you and I are meant to be,” Anna completed for him.

Hans lifted himself up on one elbow. His face above Anna’s, he asked, “What would you say, if I asked you right now to marry me?”

Anna gasped. “Yes!” she answered. “Oh yes, yes! Let’s get married right away!” She sat up, excited with the possibilities. “We can announce our engagement at my party next week, and then we can elope!” She bounced in place. “And for our honeymoon, we can go on a world tour!”

“That sounds wonderful!” Hans echoed her enthusiasm.

“Oh, it does! It really does.” She flopped back onto the mattress. “Elsa is going to be so surprised,” she said.

Hans gave her a quizzical look. “Elsa?” he asked.

“My older sister?” Anna responded. “I did tell you about my older sister, didn’t I?”

“No,” Hans answered. He smiled at his new bride-to-be. “No, I don’t recall that you did.”

 


	8. Layer 8: Whipped Cream, Nuts...

**“(Love is) An Open Door”**

 

The deep quiet of night surrounded the lakeside cabin. Shady Glen lay like a sleepy hound guarding the chill lake, whose moonlight-touched surface rippled with puffs of wind and the periodic splash of lake fish leaping for insects. The trees bordering the lake could hardly be discerned from their surroundings, but the susurrus of the evergreens whispered all around.

Anna’s loose hair floated across her face in the gusts and tickled her bare shoulders, but she didn’t move it out of the way. She didn’t feel the change of the cabin floor to the pine needles on the lake path under her bare feet. She was still dreaming. When her toes began to sink into mud, she was still unaware that her sleepwalking was taking her on a direct path into Lake Wenatchee.

Luckily for Anna, Hans felt the draft from the open cabin door, woke, and saw where she was going. He pulled on pants before running after her. Her feet were caked in mud from walking along the lakeshore when he reached her.

“Anna, what are you doing,” he asked, “going skinny dipping?” He grasped her arm. She resisted his pull but didn’t respond. “Anna?” Her vacant stare made him recoil. Then he grasped her by the shoulders and shook her. “Anna, wake up,” he insisted. He shook her again. “Anna!”

Anna swiped at her alarm clock. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled in protest. Her hand didn’t hit a snooze button, but Hans felt the impact of her elbow directly on his nose.

“Ow! Fu--” Hans caught himself. “For heaven’s sake, Anna, you’re stark naked out here.” He rubbed at his nose, smiling graciously as if it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did.

Anna looked around groggily and ran a hand through her hair. “Wha’?” she asked. She put her hands on her face and rubbed her eyes. She tipped her head back and finger-combed her hair again. “Ohh, the stars are pretty,” she said as she took in the sky. She shivered at the cold of the breezes blowing over the lake. She stepped closer to Hans and hugged him for warmth.

He squirmed at the coldness of her hard nipples against his bare chest. Reluctantly, he put his arm around her. As an afterthought, he dropped his hand down to her round backside and rubbed the firm curve.

Anna looked at herself, then looked up at Hans with slow speculation. She put her arms around his neck. “Do you want to make love under the stars?” she asked.

“Let’s go inside and wash off our feet,” Hans suggested.

Back inside the comfort of the cabin, Hans filled the clawfoot bathtub partway. He rolled up the hems of his jeans so that he could wash the pine needles off his feet first, stepped in, and swished his feet in the warm water until the dirt washed out from between his toes. He sat atop the toilet to dry his feet while Anna gingerly stepped over the side of the tub.

“You’re a somnambulist,” he said.

“Only when I’m excited. Sorry,” Anna apologized. She leaned on the wall for support and balance.

“Is that because of…” he made a gesture toward his head. “When you were little?” He observed her slow, naked dance in the tub. The goosebumps had relaxed out of her skin. He was starting to feel warmer, too.

Anna shrugged. “Maybe?” She tried to step out of the tub, but the side was high. She caught herself on the wall when she nearly slipped.

Hans stood up and caught her, helping her out of the tub. Instead of putting her down on her feet, he lifted her up to the sink counter, sat her there, and positioned himself between her legs. He unbuttoned his jeans and stepped out of them. Anna welcomed him in with legs wrapped around his hips and arms wrapped around his neck.

“Mmm. You feel different without a condom,” Anna purred. She kissed the side of his neck.

“Well, we’re engaged now,” Hans responded on heavy breath.

“I have an IUD,” she said.

Hans kissed her on the mouth so that she would shut up.

* * *

 

 

“On the drive home,” Hans said, “the long drive home, I might add,” he popped a piece of applesauce bran muffin into his mouth, “I learned all about big sister Elsa.”

“Oh?” Flynn asked. Out of habit, he checked the exits out of Cafe Nervosa for the clearest, quickest path. The cafe was moderately busy. Bystanders filled the other tables and waited in line at the counter.

“Oh, indeed. Apparently, she’s very forgettable.”

Flynn looked up at Hans with a frown.

“Because,” Hans continued, “not only did little Anna neglect until yesterday to mention her to me, but _so did big sister’s new boyfriend!_ ” Hans’s voice slithered across the cafe table. “HOW could you be so underhanded, Eugene? After all I’ve done for you. Then you do this.”

“Do what?” Flynn questioned, forcing a laugh as he raised his shoulders and opened his arms. “I didn’t know who she was when I bumped into her.”

“Really.” Hans drew the single word out in a menacing tone.

Flynn crossed his arms and rubbed his chin. “After all we’ve been through… don’t you trust me?”

“Ha!”

“You’ve still found your place,” Flynn said. “Anna’s trust fund is just as healthy as it always was.”

“Her _trust fund_ , yes,” Hans responded. “As long as Anna stays healthy. Do you know, she nearly sleepwalked right into a glacial fed lake? Imagine what her drowning would have done to my prospects.”

“Then you’ll have to make sure to take good care of her, won’t you?” Flynn asked. Diverting the subject, he asked, “I suppose I’ll see you at her party next week?”

“I don’t know. I’m not satisfied with how this scenario is playing out,” Hans said. “And you? What’s your angle with Arendelle’s true heiress?”

Flynn couldn’t help smiling to himself. “Well. She’s a view I could get used to,” he said.

Hans’s tone turned chummy and insinuating. “Is she?”

“Hm, yeah,” Flynn hinted.

“She’s riding you like one of her dressage horses? You do seem to have better color in your face and a jaunt in your step this morning. I _thought_ it must be from dipping your wick. You’ve been overdue.”

“Elsa’s not like that,” Flynn retorted. “Don’t talk about her like she’s one of your conquests.”

“Why not? One of the few good things about Anna is that she’s always hungry for seconds and thirds. We didn’t get out of bed all weekend. Doesn’t the talent run in the family?”

Taking a sip of his cappuccino and finding it tepid, Flynn put the cup down. “I wouldn’t know, yet,” he answered under his breath.

Hans stared at Flynn for a silent minute. Then he stood up. “It’s a smidge crowded in here,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Flynn, happy to be done, rose and followed Hans out the door. Hans stopped him as they started to their respective cars. “What’s the con, Eugene?” he asked.

“What?” Flynn observed that no one nearby would hear this part of the conversation. “Oh, the con. Sure,” he started. He fell silent. Without a ready answer, he studied the tips of his fingernails. “Hmph.”

“What’s. The. Con,” Hans repeated. His eyebrows rose.

“Well, Elsa’s very rich,” Flynn said. “There’s lots of money there. And -- she needs me.” He stopped speaking, a troubled frown creasing his thick eyebrows.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hans scoffed. “The con is -- you, Eugene. You’ve conned yourself.” He spoke over Flynn’s inarticulate noise of protest. “You’re not the homicidal type, so you’re not tiresomely copying my playbook again. If she was one of your rare sugar mommas, you would have already provided sexual services. So correct me, please correct me, if I’m wrong.” Hans closed his eyes with disbelief. He shook his head. He pointed a finger at Flynn’s chest. “You are twitterpated. You’ve duped yourself.”

“What are you talking about,” Flynn protested. “You think I don’t have an angle? There’s always an angle.”

“Such as?”

Flynn walked off without answering. Before he reached the corner, Hans called out after him, “Don’t be a horse’s ass, Rider!” Flynn kept walking.

He passed his parked car and kept walking. He needed to clear his head. He hated that Hans could be right, that Flynn had lost control of the situation because he didn’t have an endgame. Why had he wanted Elsa to come to need him and depend on him?

_So that she’ll look at me that way that she does,_ he answered himself, picturing the aquamarine depths that held the storm of her soul. He stopped walking and leaned against a sandstone wall, closing his eyes and thinking about the feel of holding her in his arms. _Damn._ He had done whatever he could think of to be who she needed, and her need had been his reward.

Where was the grift? He had been lying to her all along about his life, but no more than he did to everyone. Supposing that it was Elsa that he wanted out of the hustle. Then who was he hustling? Whose cookie jar was he stealing from?

Flynn snapped his fingers. _Hans_. Hans had never had good intentions toward Anna, and Flynn had wanted to thwart his half-brother’s homicidal bent toward orphan Anna even before meeting Elsa. Meeting Elsa, wanting to protect what was of value to her, had only upped the stakes.

The trick would be getting Hans away from Anna. Hans was an outright sociopath, motivated by greed and ego. Flynn had poor impulse control, but Hans was easily distracted by his own self-importance. He would pass up money lying on the table if he thought he could win with flashier cards. Picking up the money was what Flynn was for. Flynn would have to convince Hans that they would both walk away will full pockets.

Flynn had some ideas of what might pull Hans’s attention away from Anna long enough for the girl to come to her senses. Two or three of them might be available on short notice if Flynn asked nicely. Knowing Hans, he would trip up on all that skirt and show Anna what she had been getting into before she couldn’t get out of it.

* * *

  

**“Folklore motif AT310 is ‘The Maiden in the Tower.’ T92.1 is ‘Love Triangle Plot & Its Solutions.’”**

 

Elsa stood in front of the open freezer, holding the door and wondering which would cool her better: plain ice or the pint of Haagen Daaz chocolate sorbet? She settled on the no-calorie option and tossed a handful of ice in a glass. She didn’t bother adding water. It would melt fast enough in the unusually high temperature of the day.

She had opted to work from home. It was efficient, and she had been able to get the important work done before the heat did her in. She had at least another hour of less pressing email to read and reply to, and she planned to do it from her laptop in the conservatory, where the garden air, a large glass of ice, and her mini skirt and tank top ensemble almost made the heat bearable. Keeping her mind on work would have been difficult enough even without the heat. She had hardly been apart from Flynn at all since meeting him at the start of the weekend.

Their Sunday date had been an excursion to one of the Arendelle facilities north of La Conner. Elsa and Flynn had made a day of it, taking a more scenic drive on the old highway so they could ride with the windows down. They stopped at viewpoints and poked into tiny antique shops. Elsa took Flynn through the greenhouses on a private tour, visited with the staff, and finished the date at her front door, kissing in the car until Kai turned off the porch light.

Reached the bottom of the stairs into the conservatory, she picked up some paper files, her laptop, and her phone and carried them to the table by the armchair. Realizing that she should have brought something for a coaster, she didn’t set down her glass of ice and melt. She opened the glass doors to the garden, and she stood there in the cooler air with the condensation-wet glass pressed to the side of her neck.

A droplet of condensation collected and dripped down the back of her neck, racing down her spine like a caressing fingertip. Elsa muffled a small moan. She fished out a crescent of ice and held it with her fingers between her lips until she pulled the sliver into her mouth. She played with the melting ice with her tongue, mind far away.

Going back inside, she put the glass down on the fireplace stone hearth. She moved her computer to the Victorian fainting couch, which was closer to the hearth than the armchair. She picked up her phone and pulled up the number of the cell phone she had given Flynn. She considered sending him a text, but realized that she wanted to hear his voice. She called.

She almost hung up while the phone was ringing. Her heartbeat sounded louder in her ears than the ringing on the other end of the line. Then he picked up.

“Elsa.”

“Hi,” she said. “Are you busy?”

“No! No, I’m done with office hours for today,” he assured. “What’s on your mind?”

She moved the phone away so she could take a deep breath. “I’m nearly done, too. Why don’t you come over. We could do something.”

“Oh. Something.” Flynn turned her vague suggestion into a suggestive implication. “We could do something. What are you doing right now?”

“Mmh,” she made a noncommittal noise. “Nothing very important.”

There was a smile in his voice as he asked, “Are you sitting or standing?”

“Sitting,” Elsa answered, taking a seat on the end of the couch. “Taking off my shoes.”

“Mmhm. Sounds like you’re done working now.”

“No.”

“Sass!”

Elsa giggled. She pulled her laptop closer and opened it. “I’ll keep working until you get here. I’m in the conservatory. It’s not as bad as in the study.”

“Uh-huh. One last question,” he said. His voice lowered to sueded tones. “What are you wearing?”

Pulling the phone away from her face, Elsa simultaneously tried to stifle a laugh, and failed. “You...!” she started to scold.

“I’d like that,” he teased, intentionally misconstruing her scold as an answer to his query. “But I need to know how to dress for this ‘something’ that we’re doing later.”

“Well, don’t wear a suit,” she said. “It’s too hot for that. We never installed air conditioning.”

“We’ll go out,” Flynn said. “Someplace outdoor, with water nearby.”

“That sounds like heaven, Flynn,” Elsa sighed. “Hurry up and get here.” They exchanged goodbyes, and she ended the call.

She hadn’t heard Anna come halfway down the stairs. “‘Hurry up and get here,’ huh?” Anna teased. She leaned on the slim railing of the midway landing. “Elsa’s gotta have it.”

Elsa gave her sister a quelling look. “Really, Anna?’

“Lighten up,” Anna answered.

“Did you call the caterer?” Elsa asked, changing the subject.

Anna was instantly annoyed. “I said I would get it done!” she said. “It’s Monday. We have a whole week.”

“You said you would do it yesterday,” Elsa countered. “And you didn’t.”

“I never promised to do it over the weekend,” Anna argued. “I had a date.”

“Yes, and by the way. How could you go to a remote location with someone when we don’t know anything about him?”

“What? It was a first date! No one knows anything about the other person on a first date. Because they’re strangers. That’s what dating is,” Anna said. “Not that you’d know.”

Elsa’s tone became hard. “That was unnecessary.”

Anna backed off. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Nevermind,” Elsa complained. “Can you please just finish those couple of things for your party? It will give me peace of mind.”

Anna offered a winning smile. “I’ll go do them right now,” she said. She skipped up the stairs.

Elsa drank the melt water off her ice and tried to get her attention back to the pending emails. Answering them in order of priority, she knocked out a respectable percentage in fifteen minutes. She leaned back, then laid completely onto her back and stretched. She covered her eyes with the back of her wrist. Body still, her mind rolled over points from the morning's meetings, pending developments, the report on color trend projections, and other points of the day-to-day workings of her family’s business.

* * *

 

Flynn let himself through the gate, parked in front of the house, and took the side path around through the garden to the conservatory doors. The driveway radiated heat off the concrete, but as soon as he stepped into the garden, the temperature dropped by ten degrees. The insect count increased: above the koi pond, clouds of gnats undulated in the tree shade.

He loved the rare hot days when the Emerald City warmed up over eighty. Locals left their windows open and tourists -- easy marks -- were plentiful. In his teens he had been like a squirrel, storing up petty thefts all summer while the fruit hung low. Later, he had come to enjoy the challenge of picking pockets when folks wore light clothing and avoided crowding; it helped him keep his skills sharp. For pure profit, though, the holiday shopping season beat summer. Luxury businesses put out better stock for Christmas, and fences had an easier time moving stolen goods, so Flynn was happy to spend time with Elsa during this hot weather instead of working.

Flynn would have been happy to spend time with Elsa regardless. He double underlined that thought when he reached the glass doors to the conservatory and saw her stretched out on the Victorian couch, arm up, eyes closed, and barefoot. He stopped at the door and drank in the sight of her, wondering all the while if she was sleeping. He could creep over and kiss her awake like a fairytale prince charming. He decided that “creep” was the right verb for that action, and decided against it. Things didn’t go consensually for Sleeping Beauty in the original stories. He prefered how things played out in “Petrosinella,” an early maiden-in-the-tower story that specifically told of the hero couple courting in a friendly way before running off together. In that version, unlike the Grimm’s Rapunzel, no one went blind from jumping out of (or being thrown from) the tower, and the happy couple escaped the witch through cooperation.

_Now I’m comparing us to fairytales,_ he thought with a kind of defeated acceptance. He hadn’t thought about fairytales and folklore since cramming the Thompson folklore index for that ballet theater scam he ran with Ella Ashe. He had talked to Ella in the morning, cashing in on the profit she owed him in the form of a favor. It put storybook stories on the brain.

He hated when Hans was right, though.

Elsa stirred, and he had a nice glimpse of bare skin when her shirt rode up. Nothing blatantly pornographic, not even navel, but the sight still made him draw a deep breath. At the sound, she moved her arm and sat up with eyes open. She swung her legs down and smoothed her clothes and hair.

“Hi,” he said.

Flustered, she asked, “How long have you been there?” She straightened her paper file folders and shut her laptop. “I didn’t hear you.”

He strolled in. “A minute,” he said. “Did you fall asleep?”

“No, I only closed my eyes,” Elsa answered. “You look nice,” she said. He watched her take in his casual attire, the classic pairing of indigo jeans and a fitted, cotton T-shirt. “That blue grey color is good on you.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” he responded. He took a seat on the end of the couch, beside her. “Got something for me?” He leaned in.

She leaned to meet him, her eyes closing. Her hands slid across the cushion toward him. He pulled her in closer, dovetailing their knees together. His knee stopped under the hem of her miniskirt. He wished he had worn shorts. Not that he would be caught dead in shorts. Maybe a kilt. Anything that would put her bare thighs against his bare thighs.

While he kissed her, his hand followed the down ramp of his leg and made contact with that tantalizing bare skin. He kept going past his knee, well into what he knew was the outfield. He grazed the base only a moment before withdrawing his hand, which he then moved to the topside of her skirt. She was wearing lace, under that flirty skirt.

She surprised him with her hands slipping up under his T-shirt, baring his stomach as her hands climbed to his chest. Her kiss was a hungry one, as hungry as he felt in return. If things were different between them, he would already have her on her back and be making effort to scandalize the Victorians who had made the furniture. Her thumb rubbed circles on his nipple. The fingers of her other hand played through his light chest hair.

Above the waist was second base, and she had started it. He reached under her tank top to cup her breasts. Her moan was muffled by their kissing. He moved his lips to her neck. He wanted to hear her noises.

Elsa pushed him away. She pushed his shirt up further and her mouth went to his chest. She caught one side in her teeth, flicking her tongue with tiny licks while still tormenting the other side with fingers. Flynn gave up and peeled his shirt off over his head. Elsa slowed. She looked up at him, still running tactile licks over his nipple. She gave it a tender kiss, kissed its mate, and then kissed her way up to his jawline.

He unhooked her bra while she placed soft kisses over his face. He lifted her hand and bit her fingertips. Then he was the one on his back, having twisted around to pull Elsa down on top of him. She had to straddle him not to knee him in the crotch. He pushed her top up and slid his way down the couch so that he could kiss her breasts and lip her nipples. Her shirt tented over his head. He massaged her modest breasts with his hands; they seemed small cupped in his large palms, but perfect nevertheless.

She grabbed his wrists suddenly and sat up, pulling her tank top down. “I thought I heard someone coming in,” she explained. “Anna’s home right now.”

Flynn sat up, too, but he caught Elsa in his lap for a minute longer. He caught her lips in a lingering kiss. He grinned at her.

She looked at him with luminous eyes. Then she looked away, but a smile tugged her lips, too. “I blame the heat,” she said. She reached under her shirt and clipped her bra. She escaped his lap and stood up, gathering her shoes.

“I want to kiss every square inch of you,” Flynn told her.

Her lips blotted together. “I can imagine how that would feel,” she answered. Flynn wasn’t sure if she meant the desire or the reception. Both, he hoped. Picking up his shirt, he put it back on.

After getting on her shoes, Elsa stood looking up at her family portrait, hands steepled in front of her lips. “Take me somewhere,” she said at last, to Flynn. “Someplace that makes me feel like a different person.”

The sentiment was concerning, but it wasn’t as if Flynn hadn’t at times felt the same way. “I have an idea,” he said, thinking of an outing.

“Don’t tell me. Let’s just go.”

* * *

 

They sat in the overspray from the International Fountain, a large dome that shot out jets of water in time with contemporary music. They blended in with the tourists meandering through Seattle Center. They took selfies, heads together, with the iridescent undulations of MoPop’s architecture as background, bought saltwater taffy from the candy shop in the Armory food court, and rode the elevator up the Space Needle to the observation deck. At the observation deck, they went outside to the walkway around the circumference of the disc.

“Alone at last,” Flynn said, nuzzling up to Elsa with a panorama of Puget Sound in front of them beyond the protective fence. Standing behind her, he put his arms around her. Just at that moment, a blonde with long hair came around the curve of the building.

Intent on the view, she knocked into Flynn. “Um, sorry. Excuse me,” she said, squeezing past Flynn and Elsa on the narrow walkway. When she was past, she continued on her way to the doorway back inside.

“Alone at last,” Elsa said, leaning back into him.

Another group of tourist came along the walkway from the other direction. Flynn and Elsa stepped apart so that the group could pass.

“Not exactly secluded,” Flynn observed. He turned her around to face him. “But the view is amazing,” he said, looking only at her.

“I’ve never been a tourist before,” Elsa said. She focused on the stitching in his collar. “‘Everybody hates a tourist’,” she quoted Pulp.

He tipped her chin up. Lowering his head, he asked softly, “Is that what you’re doing, with me?”

She shook her head. “No,” she answered at the same volume. “No.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Common People", Pulp](https://youtu.be/yuTMWgOduFM)
> 
> [MoPop](http://www.mopop.org/)


	9. Layer 9: Edible Glitter

**“It’s a Gratuitously Sexy Scene, No Prince Soundtrack Needed”**

The bars and clubs had long ago closed, releasing the city into rare hours of quiet and darkness. Soon, the summer sun would climb over the horizon, pushing light up from behind the North Cascade mountain range, priming the day with light long before Seattle rubbed its eyes awake and reached for the morning’s first cup of Full City roast.

In Flynn’s loft apartment, the lights blazed as they had all night. The windows were open to air touched with the salt scent of Elliot Bay. Elsa and Flynn had no awareness of the time, otherwise Elsa might have rushed around, worrying about the late hour, concerned that she had not told her household that she would be out overnight on a weekday. She hadn’t intended to be. But Flynn had cooked dinner at his place, and then she had helped him make a tiramisu -- helped by eating the ladyfingers and other components while he assembled the layered dessert -- until the intoxication of each other’s company had taken them to canoodling on the couch.

With no pressure of time, and no concern for interruption, they progressed from comfortable snuggling to amorous kisses. Their shoes were discarded together under the coffee table. And with the weather still warm enough to demand single layers of airy fabrics like cotton and soft bamboo knits, not much clothing impeded exploration by hands, by fingers, by lips.

They kissed slowly and intensely. When Elsa shed her unbuttoned blouse, Flynn took it as permission to toss his body-warmed T-shirt after it. Her satin bra fell from his hands over the back of the couch. Skin on skin, tongues on skin, lips on body contours, on the arches of bone and dimples of navel, they brought each other to the humming state of Tibetan singing bowls.

Elsa smelled like her _eau de cologne,_ expensive and heady like alpine flowers. She slid down onto her side, perilously close to the edge of the cushions, and Flynn took the change in position as an invitation to pull her beneath him. He placed his knees outside hers. Her skirt hiked up, baring her stomach to the cotton twill of his pants. He lifted his hips, putting his weight on his knees, and darted down to steal a kiss against her belly before traveling back up to place kisses above her skirt’s waistband.

Her hands were in his hair until his mouth reached her breast again. Then, as he filled his mouth with the textures of her terrain, her hands crawled down his back. They moved into the small pocked of space between their bodies, her fingers dancing over his abdomen, his stomach. Her fingertips and thumb caressed the thin trail of hair that ran from his navel into his pants.

He made her sternum a road for his lips. He kissed her throat. He took her lips with his. He took hold of her hand, the one teasing his body hair, and guided it down over his fly, into his crotch. She would have been feeling his arousal against her legs already. He knew he couldn’t touch her the way he wanted to, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t welcome her touch on him.

Her small hand, cupped inside of his, pressed against his hardness, took him to the edge. She didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, her fingers closed and opened, a light grip and squeeze with the pressure of her palm, and Flynn went right over the edge like a kayak over a waterfall.

He pulled away from her kiss and pressed his head against her shoulder. His moan was a mix of the pleasure of release and utter embarrassment. Carefully, he sat up. Embarrassment was becoming bemusement, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Elsa and see her reaction. He got up and took himself to his bathroom to clean up, feeling as wobbly on his feet as a puppy.

From the bathroom, he went upstairs, to change clothes. Still shirtless and barefoot, he was buttoning up the fly of a clean pair of jeans when Elsa padded up the steps and stepped onto the loft level. She hadn’t dressed. Nymphlike, she stood in his bedroom with her hair in disarray and the skirt at her hips looking like the inverted bell of a flower.

She waited with expectation, so he made a joke at his expense. “Fourth of July was three weeks ago and here I am shooting off fireworks like a teenager,” he said. He darted a glance her way.

Her smile pulled tighter at one corner. “It only seems fair,” she said. “You had mine the first night we met.”

“True,” he admitted. Relief filled his chest. She wasn’t put off by his loss of control.

She walked up to him and her slim arms encircled him. She looked up into his eyes. “It’s almost morning,” she said.

“That late?”

“Too late to go home, now,” she said, the little smile dancing on her lips. “I sent Anna a message.” Her hands played over his arms. “And now I’m sending you a message,” she said. She slithered out of his arms and walked over to his bed, where she sat down. “You don’t sleep in jeans, do you?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t sleep in pajamas, either,” he answered.

“Lend me a shirt,” she said. “You don’t have to wear anything.” She wriggled out of her skirt. Laying it in a neat fold on the floor, she pulled her legs up and climbed under the first sheet.

Grinning like a fool, he found the softest cotton jersey shirt he had, gave it a sniff to make sure it still had a freshly laundered smell, and brought it over to her. She pulled it on over her head. 

Flynn went to the switch at the top of the staircase and turned off the downstairs lights. He let his eyes adjust to the incomplete darkness. He stepped out of his clothes, tossed them over a chair, and went to join Elsa in bed.

* * *

**“Closets Are For Clothes”**

Kai knocked lightly on the open door of Elsa’s study. She looked up to see him holding a garment bag with the logo of her tailor. “This arrived for you,” he offered. “Shall I take it to your room?”

Elsa stood and walked around to the front of her desk, arm out for the dress bag, which contained her gown for Anna’s party. “I’ll take it,” she told him. “Thank you, Kai. What a trouble to have to carry it up here for me.”

“It’s never any trouble, Miss Elsa,” the portly butler assured. He handed the garment bag to her before heading back down to the second floor, where his and Gerda’s rooms were located.

Elsa took the satin bag down the hall to her bedroom. She had expected it to take longer to be delivered. At the fitting, her dressmaker had discovered that Elsa was half a size smaller than her measurements taken in spring. Elsa knew she had lost some weight -- mostly in tone, to her distaste. It tended to happen in the summer anyway, but she also had been negligent about self-care. While walking to her bedroom, she made a note on her phone to meet with a nutritionist and schedule a session of acupuncture. She also blocked out an hour, in the early morning three times a week, to add in physical activity.

Unzipping the bag first to check the dress, she hung the garment bag on the closet door and reviewed what else she would need to complete the outfit. Since Anna had chosen a cream colored cocktail dress glittered with colored crystal jewels amid the embroidery at bodice and hem, Elsa had gone with a warmer hue for herself than usual. Her pale peach dress was a chemise style sheath, adorned with wispy feathers at the skirt and each nexus of the beaded lattice detail. She had a pair of rose gold heeled sandals that she thought would compliment, and she planned to put her hair up in a modest knot.

She wasn’t sure about the hair. Firing up her laptop, she tried to remember where she had seen something in the style she was imagining. She was fairly certain she had seen a bun hairstyle with shorter locks framing the face in a recent movie, but she couldn’t recall the actress’s name, so she typed in a search using the name of the character. She sat down with her laptop on her vanity table and began scrolling through the images, most of which were unhelpful. She typed the name of a second character, hoping for the scene she remembered that featured the hairstyle.

As she scrolled through the images, the photos became the scattershot results of her search parameters, images that seemed to have no correlation to her keywords, but also some results that seemed to be getting closer. She continued scrolling. Inevitably, the photos became porn. First came the Rule 34 fanart, and Elsa almost closed the browser on the trite images of BDSM submission and giant, ejaculating dongs. Regardless of how empowered the character was, the sexualized drawings of her always had her on her knees.

Oddly enough, one of the Rule 34 pictures had the hairstyle she needed. Alas, the detail of the drawing was all in the money shot, not the hair. Elsa continued paging down in a mixture of morbid curiosity and ennui. Now the results were entirely unrelated still shots of the same gonzo porn session, two pretty young women and a male body that was never entirely in the frame. She studied one of the photos for a long minute, trying to sort out the direction of bodies relative to each other.

The women certainly seemed happy with what they were doing. They posed for the camera with playful expressions, winking come-hithers and energetic smiles. It was obviously for the male gaze, but at the same time, there was a kind of charm to the images. And the women _were_ very pretty.

“Knock knock knock,” Anna sang, sailing into the room. Immediately, Elsa tried to close the browser, but missed and only minimized the window. She shut the laptop. Standing up, she turned around toward Anna.

“What?” Anna inquired, a quizzical smile on her face. She looked down at her clothes. “Do I have food on me?”

“No,” Elsa quickly said. “You surprised me.”

“Your door was open.” Anna shrugged. She spotted the dress. “Ooh, that’s pretty! Elsa, it’s so sexy!”

“You say that like I’ve never worn a nice dress before,” Elsa argued.

Anna narrowed her eyes. “Exhibit A,” she said, reaching into Elsa’s closet and digging around. She found a violet dress and wiggled into it on the spot. “Ooh La La,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “Zees one iz so, how do yoo zay, grape color’d, like zee wine.”

“You’re not wearing that. Get out of that,” Elsa said in dry tones.

Anna cheerfully complied, exchanging the purple dress for a loose, persimmon colored one with a balloon skirt. “Oh, this one,” Anna said, laughing. “Exhibit B! Did you ever wear this size? It looks like an heirloom squash!” She bounced the skirt with a hula hoop motion. “Pardon my behind!” she exclaimed in another fake voice.

Elsa laughed, releasing some of the tension of nearly being caught looking at girl-on-girl pornography. She certainly hoped Anna hadn’t seen what was on the screen. “I was going to give that one away,” she explained. “Both of those.”

“You definitely need to clean out your closet. Is this your prom dress?” she asked in disbelief as she poked at a garment squeezed in among the others. “I can’t believe it’s still in here. You went stag with those girl friends of yours, didn’t you?” She popped back out, a pair of stiletto heels in hand. “I can’t imagine you’d want to keep the memento.” Anna put the shoes on the floor. She slipped off her Tevas and began pushing her smaller feet into Elsa’s shoes.

Elsa started toward her sister. “No, no, no, no,” she warned her. “Those shoes are new. Stop messing around.”

“They almost fit,” Anna weedled. She tried walking. She wobbled like a newborn deer. She stumbled and fell out of the shoes.

“Anna!” Elsa stood waiting while Anna sheepishly picked up the high heels. “When are you going to grow up and stop horsing around?”

“Well I don’t know,” Anna sassed. She crossed her arms while still holding a shoe in each hand. “When are you going to lighten up and have some fun?”

“I do have fun,” Elsa countered. “Now give me my shoes.”

“Fine,” Anna sighed with mock disappointment. She put the pair together and handed them over.

“Now listen. This means a lot to me, and I want you to take what I say seriously,” Elsa said. When she had Anna’s full attention, Elsa fixed her face in a grave expression. “Don’t ever wear silver stilettos with cut off shorts again.”

Anna narrowed her eyes at the facetiousness of her sister. “You love me,” she declared. “Admit it.”

* * *

**“The Party’s Over (Close the Bar)”**

The day of Anna’s debut arrived. To Elsa, it felt as if the days had flown by. Flynn was a constant presence in her life, even with her repaired Mercedes back in its parking space. She saw more of him, spent more time with him, than she did with Anna.

So as the guests milled in the enchanted space of the party venue, the Great Hall at Union Station, Elsa told Flynn that she wanted a few minutes to track Anna down. Anna had managed to disappear shortly after the food had been served.

Not that any of the guests appeared to notice. The party seemed to be going well. The musicians played pleasant instrumental numbers, their subtle covers of pop and rock tunes interspersed with familiar baroque suites, never too loud to overwhelm the hum of conversation. The guests clustered in groups, at their tables as well as standing around the room. Elsa recognized most everyone, but there were enough plus-ones to fill the crowd with strangers.

She was still looking for Anna when Anna appeared, holding the hand of Hans Westergaard, the man Anna had started dating, and leading him up to the raised platform where the band played. Anna instructed the band to quiet. When the music stopped, the volume of conversation followed until the room was nearly silent, attention turning to the young woman expectantly waiting.

The violinist stood up. He moved his microphone closer to Anna, helping her raise the stand to the level of her shoulder. The grin Anna wore on her face gave Elsa pause, but the goofy smile on Hans’s face raised red flags. She started walking toward the band platform, readying herself to quell whatever foolery Anna had been convinced to start. Elsa was distinctly afraid that it might be karaoke. 

“Hello, hello everyone!” Anna spoke into the microphone. Her sweet voice echoed up into the arches of the ceiling. “Thank you all for coming tonight. This has been a big day for me.”

Elsa slowed her walk, relaxing at Anna’s words. It seemed that she merely wanted to make a speech of gratitude. But then Anna put her arm around Hans’s waist, and he put his arm around hers, and Anna leaned into the microphone again. 

“And… we’re about to make it even bigger,” Anna said. She began giggling. Hans, leaning in to her, showed rows of white teeth in his smile. “We would like,” he began. “To announce,” Anna continued. Together, they finished, “our engagement!”

“We’re getting married!” Anna’s squeal broadcast over the speakers to the whole room. No one could have missed hearing her.

Elsa stopped where she stood, less than five feet from Anna and Hans, utterly stunned. “What?” she asked, too quietly to be heard over the guests applauding Anna’s announcement. “Wait. No!” she said, more loudly.

Anna went on, “We haven’t sorted out all the details yet, we’re thinking of just a simple ceremony at the courthouse tomorrow,” she exchanged a look with Hans, beaming excitement, “so I don’t know if there will be another big party, but if there is, you’re all invited!”

“No!” Elsa repeated. She hurried to Anna and confronted her sister. “Anna, can I have word with you?”

Anna smiled with confusion. “Yeah, OK,” she said. She stepped down from the platform. Still holding her hand, Hans followed her.

“In private?” Elsa asked, looking pointedly at Hans.

“What’s this about?” Anna asked. She seemed wary of Elsa, and she did not ask Hans to leave.

Elsa looked back and forth from Hans to Anna. “Fine, then. He can hear it. You’re not getting married.”

Anna’s face clouded with resistance. “What?” she retorted.

“You're not getting married. You don’t marry people you just met!” Elsa pitched her voice low to keep the conversation between the three of them.

Anna responded by raising her voice. “You can if it’s he’s the _one,_ ” she insisted. “Hans is my soul mate. And we are getting married!”

“The one!” Elsa scoffed. “What would you know about that?”

“More than you! You don’t even date! You’ve dated, like, one person!”

Elsa’s response was as chilled as a January wind. “My answer is no. No way you are getting married. For one thing-- ”

Hans tried to interject, “If I may--”

“No, you may not,” Elsa snapped at him. “And I think you should go.” She projected her voice to the room. “Everyone,” she said, “I’m sorry, but the party’s over.” She stalked over to the caterer with Anna following. “Close the bar,” she told the bartender.

“Elsa! Elsa, what are you doing?”

Elsa walked away from her sister. She was fuming. How _dare_ Anna! How dare she make their affairs public! How dare she air personal matters in front of these guests!

“Wait a minute, I’m still talking to you!” Anna shouted, at least as angry herself. “Just because you won’t admit to yourself--”

Elsa was afraid of what Anna might say next. “Give me my privacy!” Her shout came out louder than she intended. Embarrassed by her outburst, Elsa headed for the exit.

“Elsa, for fuck’s sake. Please! I can’t live like this anymore.” As Anna became angrier, she flung swear words, knowing they would shame Elsa’s propriety.

She was right. Elsa rounded on her. “Then leave. Get out. Go on one of your… _vision quests_ …”

Anna threw her hands up in the air. “What did I ever do to you?” she yelled. “Bitch! What did I do, wreck your orderly little queendom by being born? Ask for my sister to trust me? Trust my decisions? You... cold… jellyfish!”

“Anna! Enough!” Elsa wanted to shout her down. Then her eyes took in the crowd. The guests were frozen, staring, aghast. Elsa turned on her heel and ran.

“No! No! Don’t you go out that door!” she heard Anna admonish, just as the heavy door swung shut behind her, freeing her into the cooler night air.

* * *

Anna started after Elsa. Hans grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” she asked him. “I have to go after her.”

“She’s clearly not in the frame of mind for rational conversation,” Hans said.

Looking at Hans as if he had insulted _her_ , Anna asked, “What would you know?” She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “Listen. You stay here and talk to the guests.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” Hans suggested.

Anna shook her head. “Calm everybody down. I’m leaving you in charge,” she said.

“Alright. Alright,” he assured her. “I’ll take care of things here.”

Anna scanned the room. She retrieved her clutch purse from her seat at the main table before heading out the same door through which Elsa had fled. Hans looked around the room and saw that the other guests were, indeed, leaving, though none of them in any special hurry. The shouting match between the sisters had only been a few moments drama. The caterer was packing up, and the band was putting away their instruments.

Hans spotted Flynn and made a beeline across the room to him. Flynn started on a path to intercept. They met at the side of the space, away from the tables, where a screen-blocked arched doorway formed an out-of-the-way alcove.

“That didn’t go as planned,” Hans huffed when he reached Flynn.

“I can guess not,” Flynn responded. “Hey, but you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs, right?”

“What are you talking about, Eugene? I have egg all over my face right now,” complained Hans. “I had no idea Anna hadn’t softened her sister up to the news yet. She told me it was all fine!”

Flynn took in a deep breath, raised and dropped his shoulders, and said, “I’m sure they’ll sort it out.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Hans narrowed his eyes in speculation. “It may be time to go to a Plan B. How is _your_ progress with the Snow Queen?”

“Fine,” Flynn answered, his answer outwardly casual. “By the way, Hans -- there is a lady here who was asking about you.” He turned his head, looking over the guests moving about the center of the room. “There she is. The red-blonde in the blue silk dress.” He indicated an attractive woman who was standing alone.

“Asking about me?” Hans smirked.

“Yeah,” Flynn assured him. He raised his hand. The woman took notice and started walking toward Flynn and Hans.

Hans returned to his agenda. “I think we need to accelerate your progress,” he said. “Think wedding bells.”

“She already shot down your engagement plans,” Flynn started.

“I’m not talking about my engagement to Anna. I’m talking about your engagement to the ice princess.” He stopped Flynn from interrupting him. “Elsa’s the one with control of the assets. You marry the money, I take a finder’s fee, and not a word needs to be said about _Eugene Fitzherbert._ Flynn,” he finished, tone heavy on Flynn’s name.

“You would screw yourself over to screw me over?” Flynn inquired. “I have dirt on you, too.”

“Oh, no one will be getting screwed who doesn’t want to be,” Hans warned affably. “And I’m not the one in love with my mark. Could she ever forgive you, do you think, for building her a castle on lies?”

“That’s an interesting point you’ve made,” Flynn said, his voice pitched loud, his facial expression somewhat rigid. “Personally, I prefered the ballet from last year’s staging of _Tristan und Isolde_ to the one we saw in Vancouver,” he opined.

Hans turned around, expecting the beautiful woman standing there. “Well, hello,” he greeted.

“Hello,” the woman responded. She offered her hand. “I hope you’ll forgive me for being forward, but other redheads are so rare that I just had to know your name. I’m Ella. Ella Ashe,” she said.

Taking her hand in his, Hans gave her a gallant bow and kissed the top of her hand. “Hans Westergaard,” he offered. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“I couldn’t help overhearing. Are you a fan of ballet?”

“A fan? I’m a connoisseur,” he answered.

“Fancy that. I’m a ballet choreographer,” Ella answered.

Flynn left them to their nauseating flirtation and slipped away. Ella would blow bubbles around Hans for the rest of the night. Into the next morning, too, if necessary. Flynn had supplied her with all she needed to know to keep his ego puffed up and his attention on her.

It was more damage control than distraction, now, though, he thought, but with maybe fortuitous timing. He had been as surprised by Anna’s announcement as everyone else. Flynn wasn’t surprised at Elsa’s resistance, but he didn’t know if she would have the sway on her sister to prevent it from happening anyway. Mostly, seeing the way Elsa ran off, Flynn worried for her.

He wondered how long he should wait before going after her. How much time should he give Anna to talk to her sister alone?

* * *

Elsa crossed the street from Union Station, away from the streetcar stop, to the corner where departing guests were unlikely to pass. The small strip of sidewalk ran alongside the gap to the train tracks below. No one could accost her without going out of their way.

She felt exposed and ashamed. She crossed one arm over her waist and pressed her other hand against her mouth, as if she could take back the shameful screaming match. Anna could get under her skin like bamboo slivers under fingernail.

After mere minutes, Anna came dashing out of the party venue. Elsa started walking toward the heart of Pioneer Square before Anna could cross the crosswalk. Anna didn’t wait for the light. She sprinted across when there was a lull across the four lanes. Elsa continued walking toward Occidental Park, the brick paved central corridor between art galleries, even after Anna caught up.

Anna didn’t shout at her. “Elsa, wait,” she begged. “Let’s talk, please?”

Elsa couldn’t look at her sister. “You made quite a scene,” she said from a tight throat.

“I did. I’m sorry. It was supposed to be happy news,” Anna said. “Can’t you be happy for me?”

“Oh, Anna,” Elsa answered. “You say I don’t trust you, but it’s not you that I don’t trust. It’s him. I don’t know him.”

“You’ve hardly given him a chance,” Anna replied.

“You’ve known him a week,” Elsa countered.

“Almost two weeks,” said Anna. She grimaced. “That sounds bad out loud. But no. You’ve known Flynn just as long. Think of it in that context.”

“I _should_ be thinking about it that way,” Elsa considered.

“Look,” Anna said, “before you say anything else. Maybe you’re right about us moving too fast. Maybe you're not. But the truth is, I am not going to get married yet if the most important person in the world to me is that much against it.”

Elsa stopped walking. “Really?” she asked.

“Really,” Anna replied. “I do want you to _come_ to my wedding, you know.”

Elsa laughed, shallow and without joy. “We should have had this conversation instead of that shouting match,” she said.

“That was kind of bad,” Anna admitted. “I didn’t expect you to run out on the party. What did you think I was going to say that made you flip out like that?”

Elsa weighed her thoughts, finally coming to the conclusion that she would prove to Anna that she trusted her. “I thought you were going to out me,” Elsa said.

“Out you? Who what?” Anna examined her sister with confusion on her face.

“I’m attracted to women, not men.” Elsa paced away. “That’s why I don’t date, or it seems that way. I thought you had seen something the other day.”

Anna opened her mouth in wonder. “What about Flynn?” Her face lit with shock. “Woah. Is Flynn trans?” 

“Flynn is an exception,” Elsa answered. “I was trying to be normal. Now I think I should tell him to get away from me before I ruin his life, too.”

“An exception is fine,” Anna said. “You know it’s not about picking one thing or another, right? I mean, there’s a scale?” She held out her hands. “Hmm. How would you rate the statement, ‘I am more interested in sex with women than men'? 'Strongly agree, somewhat agree, neutral, somewhat disagree, strongly disagree.’ Oh, and ‘No opinion slash does not apply.’ "

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not an opinion poll.”

“No, it isn’t ridiculous. I can’t believe you would say it is. Lots of people are pan or bi or whatever.”

Elsa crossed her arms and looked up at the rooftops above. “I can’t be bisexual. I have to pick.”

“Bullshit,” Anna retorted. “And you shouldn’t do that to Flynn.” She smirked. “It’s not his fault he has a breadstick instead of a bagel.”

“Anna, please.”

“Please what? What? This is what makes me mad at you! You shut the door and hide behind it. Why can’t you give this a chance? Try?” When Elsa wouldn’t answer, Anna threw her hands up in the air. “You know what? That’s it. I am done.” Anna pulled out her phone and her thumbs played over the keyboard.

“Where are you going?” Elsa called after her.

“I’m going home,” Anna said without looking up. “To pack. And then I’m going WWOOFing.”

“Anna!”

“I’m going to help some organic farmers work their farms. I think I’d rather be around people who want to grow than someone who wants to throw away what’s good.”

“Anna, stop. You’d be gone for weeks.”

“Months!” Anna threw back. “I signed up for the next four months.” She wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye with the palm of her hand. “I’ll be back for Thanksgiving.”

“Wait-- ” 

Anna cut her off. “Life’s too short to waste another minute!” Already walking away, she said, “I’m going to wait over here, away from _you_ , until my ride gets here.” She went to stand in front of a well lighted window.

“What about Hans?” Elsa asked, a desperate note in her voice.

“He can come with me,” Anna said. “We were going to honeymoon around the world anyway.”

“Please don’t go.”

Anna seemed to almost relent. Then her back straightened. She didn’t look at Elsa or say another word to her.

Five minutes later, Elsa watched Anna climb into a well-cared for, older Dodge Charger. She stood on the sidewalk and watched until the sedan drove away.

* * *

“That’s No Blizzard. That’s My Sister.”

Anna hadn’t paid much attention to the profile of the Uber driver, only enough to know he had been her driver before. On getting into the front seat of the car, however, the familiar olfactory assault of Axe made her scrunch up her nose. “Hi again,” she said to him. A glance at her phone reminded her of his name. “Kristoff.”

“Hi again to you,” Kristoff answered. He looked over his shoulder at Elsa standing on the sidewalk. “Is she going with you?”

“Nope. She’s going nowhere,” Anna stated.

Kristoff put the car in drive. Or tried to, because for a moment the stick slipped. To himself, he commented, “Someone’s in a mood.”

“I heard that.”

“Not you!” Kristoff was quick to correct. Anna thought he must be worried for his tip. “Vuelie. The car. I just tuned her. She should be humming like a dream.”

Anna pushed her seat back and put her knees up on the dash. “She seems fine now,” she said while fiddling with the air vents.

Kristoff reached over and pushed her legs down. “Put your feet down. I just got her detailed, too. What, were you raised in a barn by wolves?”

“So you’ve met my sister.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“OK,” Kristoff agreed without argument, content to drive.

“If you must know, we had a fight. My sister and I,” Anna spilled. She heard judgment that wasn’t there in Kristoff’s sigh. “It wasn’t even what she was really mad about. I mean, she acted like she was all upset because I wanted to marry Hans even though I just met him, but what it really was about was something else entirely, and not even about me--”

Kristoff stopped at a red light and interrupted her. “Hold on. You’re going to marry a man you just met?”

“Yes! And no! But that’s not the point--”

“Seriously?” Kristoff was so incredulous that he didn’t take his right turn on red.

“Yeah, she was seriously blaming me for--”

“No, I mean… seriously? You are marrying some guy you just met? Are you nuts? What if he’s a psycho?”

Anna crossed her arms and glowered. “You don’t know him.”

“What, and you do? How long ago did you meet?” A car honked behind them. Kristoff paid attention to the road again and continued driving.

“Almost two weeks ago…” 

“Lady. You know that the Pacific Northwest has more serial killers per capita than anywhere else, right?”

“Hans isn’t a serial killer,” Anna said. This driver was starting to annoy her.

“How do you know? I mean, think about Ted Bundy. People thought he was a nice guy.”

“Look, mister,” Anna said, “when you’re a woman, anyone can be a rapist, OK? For example. It’s like you’re always being hunted. That’s reality. But I’m not going to be afraid to live my life the way I want to because the statistics say I should be a victim. I’m no victim, got it?”

“I just think you should be more careful,” Kristoff said.

“You have no idea how I’m careful,” Anna retorted. “Maybe people should be afraid of _me,_ ever think of that?” They exchanged a look, Kristoff considering Anna warily. “Oh, no, no!” she was quick to dispel her implication. “I was just saying that. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m not that kind of dangerous.”

They reached her house, and Anna got out at the gate. “Thanks for the ride,” she said. She clicked payment confirmation on her phone’s screen.

“Hey, I remember this house,” he commented. “Don’t you want me to take you up the driveway?”

“No, I’ll walk it,” she answered. “Stranger danger and all that.” She smiled to show that she was kidding.

Kristoff leaned out the window. “You’re not really going to marry this guy, are you? I know it’s none of my business. But you don’t seem like someone who has to make a rush decision like that.” 

Anna, keying open the smaller walk-through gate, turned over her shoulder to answer him. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe not.” With a small shrug, she passed through the gate and closed it behind herself.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Kiss"](https://youtu.be/zoMT-wnikPM) by Prince, Ira Perez acoustic cover
> 
> WWOOFing (wwoofinternational.org)  
> "WWOOF organisations connect people who want to live and learn on organic  
> farms and smallholdings with people who are looking for volunteer help.
> 
> WWOOF hosts offer food, accommodation and opportunities to learn about organic  
> lifestyles. Volunteers give hands on help in return."
> 
> Dress inspiration, Great Hall at Union station, on my tumblr [Looks-Clear](http://looks-clear.tumblr.com/post/154738123004>here</a>.)


	10. Layer 10: and a Cherry on Top

[**“By these gloves, then t’was he”**](http://preview.tinyurl.com/zny5ey9)

Seeing Anna collect her purse gave Flynn the awareness that Elsa might want to have her personal effects with her. He found her beaded purse at the table where she had been sitting. Habit made Flynn check its contents by weight and shape. The slim rectangle covered in champagne gold pearls seemed to have hardly anything in it. She wouldn’t have needed more than her phone, keys, maybe I.D. and a credit card. She had stopped wearing lipstick, so the narrow tube shape was a lip gloss. He knew it tasted like almonds. 

He didn’t see her anywhere outside, at first. He walked along the sidewalks on each side of the building, crossed the street and began checking up the streets at every corner. Three blocks away, she was standing alone, head down and arms hugged against herself. He strode to her. “Elsa.”

She raised her head and looked over her shoulder at him, then turned her whole body to face him. She looked wrecked.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. He reached out to take her into his arms, cradling her as carefully as blown glass. She stepped into his embrace without relaxing her arms from around herself.

“Anna and I had a fight,” she said.

“Yes, you did,” he replied. 

“I mean just now.” Elsa put her forehead against his shoulder. “A bad fight. She’s gone. She’s leaving.” Elsa rocked her head side to side in a gesture of denial. “She can’t do this. She needs to go back to school. This is my fault.”

Flynn rubbed her back in circles. “Maybe you should call it a night. Let her sleep on it. You two can work things out tomorrow, when the surprise has worn off a little.”

Elsa lifted her head and looked at him sharply, her pupils dilated with what looked like fear. Then her shock withdrew, and she seemed to collect herself. “The surprise engagement,” she stated.

“Mm-hm. What other surprise did you think I meant?” he asked.

“Something Anna and I talked about.” She dropped her arms. She took her purse from his hand and hung the chain strap over her shoulder. Her hands fluttered, then landed lightly on his hips. “I don’t want to go back inside,” she said, shaking her head slightly. 

“They don’t need you to close things down, do they?” he asked. “Hans is there. Let him deal with some of the mess he caused.”

“Hm. Hans.”

“Elsa, it hasn’t come up before, but Hans is my half-brother.”

She gave him an inquiring look. “Your brother?”

“Half brother. We didn’t grow up together. I didn’t know who my bio-dad was until I was fifteen.”

“So is he trustworthy?” Elsa asked. “Should I have accepted him?”

Flynn rubbed the sides of her arms. “You should trust your judgment,” he equivocated. “Listen. They can’t run off to get married tomorrow. Washington has a three day waiting period. You still have time to smooth this out.”

“That’s not good enough. They’ll just go to Vegas or Reno and get married in one of those horribly tacky one-hour chapels.”

Flynn sighed. He wanted to tell Elsa what he had done, his plot to distract Hans away from Anna, but going down that road would raise questions he didn’t want to answer. “Trust me on this. Hans won’t leave town for at least a few days.”

The look she gave him was curious but not distrustful. “Why?” Elsa asked.

“He’s meeting with his agent,” Flynn lied. “They’re working on getting him a radio show, and the negotiations are on a pretty tight schedule.” That appeared to satisfy her. When he thought about it, Flynn recognized that Hans would thrive in show business.

“Anna will go with or without him. I know her.” Elsa began to caress Flynn’s chest. “She’s going ‘WWOOFing’. That’s a volunteer program to work on small, organic farms around the world. Something like Doctors Without Borders.”

“I don’t even know what to say about that,” he commented.

She turned her face to the side. Her cheek rested against his shoulder. “Why is it all so difficult?” she asked. He didn’t think she expected an answer from him. “Sometimes I want things to be simple. For once.”

He ran the tips of his fingers through the loose strands of her hair. He kissed the top of her head. “Come on,” he offered, “I’ll take you home."

Elsa leaned into him. “Can we… your place is nearby.”

“Of course.”

They walked together toward the Corona Lofts building. “Do you trust Hans?” she asked him.

Flynn answered, “Not further than I can throw him.” He clarified, “Hans is rake. You can tell he’s a Freudian because he doesn’t understand love. Everything is sex and primal needs going back to his mother.”

“You’re scaring me,” she said.

“Anna will see it soon enough. I’m sure she will.”

“So what do you think,” she hesitated, then went on, “about a son’s relationship with his mother, or a daughter’s with her father? From a psychoanalytical perspective.”

“I support that it’s not so morally damning as Oedipus or Electra. We yearn for the kind of nurturing and protection that a parent is supposed to give us. With the same-sex parent, there is competition. You’ll always compare yourself on some level to that preview of who you could become. Maybe a hero. Maybe a complete asshole.”

“You’re my hero, Flynn,” she quietly offered as they stood in front of his building’s door.

He closed his hand on his keys. The pointy teeth helped him keep a hold on reality. He could feel his eyes opened wide while he stared into Elsa’s face for what felt like it could have been eternity. When time started moving again, he turned the key in the lock and held the door open for her. 

Inside his apartment, Elsa stopped in the entry to take off her shoes. He smiled at the twinkle of glitter in her toenail polish. She was starting to give him a mild foot fetish. He stepped out of his loafers as well, and tossed his socks when he peeled them off into the bathroom hamper, taking a minute to wash his hands afterward.

Elsa was perched on the back of his couch when he came out. She had tossed her purse onto a side table. “I want you to be my first time. Tonight,” she said without preamble. Her face changed when she saw his expression. “Don’t freak out, please?”

In the echo chamber of his head, Flynn was freaking out. “I’m… I’m not freaking out,” he blustered. “I’m just wondering, uh, wondering…” He grasped for something to say that wasn’t, _What do you mean you’re a virgin!_ _How can you be a virgin! You’re a goddess! You’re Khione come down from the mountains!_ “That’s very interesting. To hear, I mean.” He closed his eyes. After a minute to collect himself, to become serious, he said, “It will be an honor.” He gave Elsa a full smoulder.

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Stop that. Why would you make that face?”

“Got you to smile,” he answered.

“I’m trying to be serious,” Elsa said. “I want you to know -- thank you, for respecting my rules. I don’t think a lot of people would have, not when… things were happening. But I’ve made a decision. I’ve decided on you. And I need you to hold me.” 

Flynn pulled her into his embrace. “You’re still running away from fighting with Anna,” he said.

Elsa shook her head. “Let’s not talk about that right now.” Her fingers grasped his shirt. “Not when you could be loving me.”

She may as well have reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in her hand. “Speaking of that,” he said. He thought his voice sounded pitched to the right light-hearted tone. “Confession time.” The next part was just three small words.

“Tell me upstairs!” she said. She tugged at his hands while walking backwards. Letting go of his hands, she turned and dashed up to the loft. She turned back at the top of the stairs to look for him.

He followed her at a slower pace. Standing on the bottom step, he looked up at her. “I love you, Elsa,” he said.

She gave him one of her winsome smiles. “I love you, too,” she said, before she turned on her heel and ran up the last of the stairs, into the bedroom.

When Flynn reached the top, Elsa’s dress lay cast aside over the back of a chair. Elsa sat on his bed in her strapless bra and panties, her legs tucked up under her. She played with her braid, running fingers of one hand over the twist.

He sat on the bed beside her before he started to undress. Though the upstairs lights were off, the downstairs lighting illuminated the room well enough to see clearly. He undressed slowly so that she could watch him. It wasn’t quite a strip tease, but as each piece came off, he flung it aside in a manner punctuating his removal of each layer. Buttoned shirt, watch, belt. She looked away a minute after he peeled his undershirt. Then she unclipped her bra, and she tossed it on top of his pants when they joined the other clothes on the floor. He wanted to touch her, but she scurried under the covers before taking off her panties.

Flynn stood up, hooked his thumbs into the band of his boxer briefs, and peeled himself out of them. Amusement pulled his mouth into a smile when he saw Elsa’s eyes slightly widen. A blush colored her cheeks. The thought crossed his mind; he wondered if she was comparing him to any other men she had seen. He wondered if she had seen anyone else to compare him to. _Not when she’s a virgin,_ his inner voice sniped.

 _I’ll make it good for her,_ he swore. _Not one iota of regret._

Catching his first sight of her nude beauty when he lifted the covers to join her, he smiled more broadly. He eased into the bed with her. It was too warm to be under even a sheet. The apartment had been closed up all evening. Sitting up on his hip, he left the sheet draped over their legs, a talisman of modesty, and covered her body with his own against it instead. Her skin temperature was cool, like water under shade. He caressed every inch of it that he could reach.

Then he exchanged fingers for lips, as his primary method of exploring. Elsa breathed in short, shallow, frightened breaths, so he gave the most attention to less stimulating areas of her body than her erogenous zones. He kissed her collarbone from the center to her shoulder. He rubbed the outside side of her thigh, following the curvature of muscle to her knee.

Each time he kissed her mouth, the emotional punch grew stronger. He didn’t whisper sweet nothings into her ear because he didn’t trust his voice. She kissed him back with an airy abandon. Her lips traveled his face when their mouths weren’t joined.

Eventually, though, he had to speak. “Think you’re ready?” he asked.

Elsa nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. She swallowed. A little louder, she repeated, “Yes. I am.”

Flynn’s hands were shaking, but he calmed himself down focusing on making their union an easy experience for Elsa. Sex was an activity where he was confident. Reaching into the drawer of the bedside table, he brought out a handful of condoms, keeping one and tossing the rest onto the top of the table for ease of reach. He positioned himself kneeling. Elsa mirrored him, but with her hands on her knees, and waited for how to proceed.

He pulled her in toward him with one arm and kissed her deeply while fitting the condom on with his other hand. “Straddle me like this,” he said, looking into her eyes. “You’ll be able to take it at the pace you need.”

“You’re kind of big,” she worried, eyeing his lap. Her comment made him laugh, and her breathless giggle became a laugh in response.

“I’m not too big,” he assured. “You’ll be fine.”

“OK, Flynn,” she said. She put her arms around his neck. Her elbows leveraged against his shoulders as she lifted herself up over him. She looked down between their bodies. He used his hand to position himself for her, holding himself in place while she eased down. He kept a hand on her bottom for support.

He expected it, but still, when her breath caught and her face evidenced discomfort, his throat tightened with guilt, because for him, the physical sensation was pure bliss. He had to release a little moan before he could speak.

Elsa beat him to it. “Is it good?” she asked. He could feel the tension in her forearms of her hands becoming fists.

“For me? Jesus, yes,” he answered. He licked his lips. “The focus is not on me right now, OK?” He planted a soft kiss on her chin. “Are you doing alright? It doesn’t hurt too much?”

“It’s uncomfortable.” She bit her bottom lip. Pushing herself down further, she closed her eyes and exhaled. “Mhm.” She eased herself up and brought herself down again, all the while with eyes squeezed shut, until Flynn couldn’t take her pain anymore. He stopped her.

“Look, let’s take it a little slower,” he said. He helped her off his lap. Evidence of her virginity lightly stained her white thighs. He saw the blood on himself and had to swallow a stone-sized lump in his throat. He heaved a heavy exhalation. “I’m a bastard, aren’t I,” he commented.

Elsa stroked his arm. “No, don’t say that. I want this,” she said. “I want you.” She remained kneeled beside him, facing him, with their thighs side-by-side.

He switched sides to give his right hand a better angle. He touched the inside of her thigh. His thumb rubbed an arc on the top of her leg. “I’m going to help open you up,” he said.

He began to kiss her again, giving the depth of their kiss importance over everything else. Slowly, Elsa began to relax. He ran his hand over her back to relax her further. Gently, he nudged at her thighs, and she shifted until she kneeled with legs apart. His hand was large and his fingers were large, he knew, so he started by caressing her mound with the back of his fingers. The tips of his fingers brushed over the inside of her damp thighs.

She responded better than she had to any other touch. By the the time he prepared to enter her with his fingers, her wetness was evident. The ministrations of his fingers and thumb had her humming and moaning though hungry kisses.

He slipped his fingers out and sat on the edge of the bed to change his condom for a fresh one. Elsa nestled up behind him and leaned up against his back. “Your bed is too soft,” she said. “It makes it hard to kneel on. Why don’t you stay there?” She slid off the mattress and approached him from the front. “This might be easier?” She climbed into his lap facing him.

With some adjusting, they found a position sitting face to face. Elsa didn’t have as much movement control, but she was more comfortable with her legs lightly wrapped around Flynn’s waist. She was more comfortable overall; Flynn returned to rubbing her with his thumb to give her pleasure. He was not so caught up in his own pleasure that he didn’t work toward her climax. Elsa kept her eyes closed, but that seemed to help her let go of herself at last.

She leaned her forehead against his forehead. He knew her body was singing. He could feel the pulse of her orgasm. The pride in accomplishment was almost enough to satisfy him completely.

Almost. “I want to finish inside you,” he murmured thickly to her. “Stay with me a little longer?”

Her cheek rubbed against his cheek as she nodded. There was wetness smearing on their skin, but Flynn hadn’t seen any tears in Elsa’s eyes. He kissed away the saline. He sniffed and rubbed his nose, unaware of doing either.

Careful not to slide out of her, he lay back and maneuvered their linked bodies further up on the bed so that he could thrust upward more easily. Upright, Elsa ran her fingers through her hair, tipping her head back; she stretched out her arms and pushed out her chest. She wore the most beautiful smile Flynn had seen on her face, and as he came, she opened her eyes and turned the brilliance of her smile onto him. The shine in the jewels of her eyes made him feel richer than a prince.

She slid down to lie beside him. He hastened to make it less of a mess than it could be, and discarded the used prophylactic with discretion. When he turned his attention back to her, she was still smiling. He grinned back.

As she brushed the loose hair out of his face, he couldn’t believe the coolness of her fingers. Sweat dampened his skin, and he hadn’t even had much of a workout. He opened his mouth to ask her, and mumbled, “What’s your secret?”

Her expression closed off, the smile vanishing like starlight obscured by cloud. “I’ve shown you all I can,” she said.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” he protested. “I don’t do backstory either. I love you complicated.”

“Complicated,” she sighed.

“Complex?” he offered. “All the layers of you. Discovering them as the come.”

She rolled onto her back. Gaze directed up into the shadows, she said, “Layers. Like laminate.” She rested her hands against her torso.

“No. Layers like a combination lock.” He flipped over, laying on his stomach so that he could look at her. “I’ll listen to you. I’ll be gentle. And when you want to open, I’ll get to see a treasure.” He laid his head down on his crossed arms. “You, Elsa. You’re diamonds.”


	11. Next Dish: Flangendorfer

_From the size of the platter, it looked like they had a lot of flangendorfer ahead of them._

_“May I present to you the finest desert in all of Arendelle!” Chef Florian exclaimed. He removed the silver dome with a flourish._

_On the platter sat two towering pastries. Each flangendorfer was made of five layers stacked on top of each other. The bottom and top layers were light, flakey pastry. The middle layers were made of fruit, chocolate, and cream. The whole dessert was drizzled with honey. Then it was dusted with powdered sugar._

_Elsa gasped, amazed. She picked up her spoon._

_Here was everything she loved, all in one dessert._

_~_ Sisterhood is the Strongest Magic: _All Hail the Queen_

* * *

 

**“It’s a Flex Arrangement”**

Anna was only too ready to get off the plane. She made a face, getting up, and one of the flight attendants hurried to help her. “Can I call for a wheelchair for you?” he asked, all sweetness.

“No,” Anna groaned. “I’m just stiff from sitting. She put a hand on her back. She made herself stretch slowly.

The flight attendant offered his arm for support and handed Anna her cane. It was an ugly steel tubing and rubber foot thing, but it was still better than using a crutch, she reminded herself. She let the flight attendant carry her wheeled carry-on off the plane, not only through the door but all the way up the walkway to the flight gate. The advantage of being last out of first class was that the flight attendants were also deboarding.

At the gate, she was on her own. Pulling her luggage behind her, she hobbled toward baggage claim for her checked luggage, using the rolling walkways whenever available. The airport was crowded, which didn’t make her ordeal through it any easier. She wanted to stop and sit, but every seat and bench was full of travelers waiting for their holiday flights.

By the time she reached baggage claim, she was pep talking herself with promises of a hot sauna. After going home and seeing Elsa for the first time in months, she was going to need a spa to unwind. Maybe Elsa would join her. They could go to the ladies-only Korean spa in north Seattle.

Anna became amused by a thought. All the times she and her sister had gone to the naked spa, had Elsa been looking at the other women? “That stinker,” Anna commented to herself.

But now Elsa was with Flynn, Anna considered as she stood at the bag carousel, waiting for her luggage to drop down the chute and come around on the conveyor belt. Months later, and they were still together. It was sort of shocking to Anna. She was happy for Elsa, too. And if things happened the way they sometimes happened, and Elsa and Flynn broke up, then maybe Elsa could be brave enough to openly date around, see that it was alright to date whoever she found attractive, regardless of what equipment they had in their pants.

Thinking about breakups made Anna grumpy again. Stupid Hans. He had sounded way too relieved when she told him over the long-distance phone connection that she wanted to hold off on their engagement. There had been a hot guy in Oaxaca that had given her incentive to agree on a non-exclusive arrangement with Hans. She became even grumpier realizing that she missed her prince. He had hardly called or emailed her while she had been gone. And still no ring on her finger.

When her bag came by on the conveyor, it was toward the inside, a little beyond her reach because of a larger bag -- not hers -- in front of it. Leaning off her injured hip, she stretched for it. It started to go by before she could grab it.

“Here, let me get that,” a no-nonsense voice said beside her. The man took hold of the obstructing luggage and handed it off to a neighbor with one hand while pulling Anna’s suitcase off the conveyor belt with the other. He set it down on the floor at her feet.

“Kristoff!” Anna exclaimed with pleased surprise. It was her Uber driver. The annoying guy. She couldn’t quite tell, but he didn’t seem to smell like cheap bodywash at the moment.

He stared at her for thirty seconds before recognition kicked in. “I haven’t seen _you_ in awhile,” he said. He looked at their surroundings. “I guess you’ve been out of town?”

“Yeah, south of the border,” Anna answered. “And you? Traveling?”

Kristoff continued to pile bags on the floor around him. He already had three. “Picking up family,” he said.

“Picking up? How did you get past the security gate?” she asked with surprise.

“Part-time job in the airport,” he explained. “I have a badge.” She noticed, now, the lanyard around his neck. “Grand Pabbie can’t carry these himself.” He hefted the bags under each arm. He eyed Anna’s cane and her two pieces of luggage.

Anna reluctantly asked. “Could you give me a hand?”

Without comment, Kristoff picked up her suitcase. Thoroughly laden, he started toward the exit. Anna kept in step beside him because he didn’t walk too fast. He didn’t maximize his long stride, either, Anna noticed.

“What happened?” Kristoff asked. He gestured with his chin toward her cane.

“I fell off a horse,” Ann answered. “She spooked and ran me right into a tree limb. Boom.”

Kristoff made a face of sympathy.

“I’ll recover. It puts a real damper on my social life, though,” she joked.

“Oh, yeah. Are you still engaged? Or did you get married to that guy?” Kristoff blocked the automatic door open so that Anna could hobble through ahead of him. Then he followed.

“We haven’t gotten married yet,” Anna answered. “Where are your people?” she asked, looking around. The day was brightly sunny, which helped it seem less cold. For the Seattle area, it was warm, something like mid-sixties, she guess. Compared to her last farm location in Chalatenango, however, it felt chilly.

“Bulda and Grand Pabbie are in the car,” he said. “In the parking garage.”

Anna looked around for the signs to public transportation. She didn’t feel like waiting around in the weather for a ride to arrive, and all the taxis were taken. “I guess I’d better head to the the light rail,” she said. She paused before saying goodbye. “Hey, could I convince you to give me a ride home?”

A look came over Kristoff’s face that was mostly reluctance. Anna latched on to the percentage that wasn’t. She offered, “I’ll pay you, of course, whatever it would be if you were working. From the airport that’s pretty good, right? And if you’re not on the clock, it’s all yours.” She could see that she was making progress. “Plus,” she sweetened the deal, “I’ll buy lunch. For everyone, you and your family. It can be drive-through, we don’t even have to eat together.”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to pack in with my family. They can be kind of inappropriate.”

“Great! Let’s go!” Anna replied. “Where are you parked?” She started walking toward a crosswalk and the parking structure.

They navigated the labyrinth of the parking. Anna had never been more grateful for ADA requirements. There were elevators. There was always a ramp instead of just steps. By the time they reached the car, Kristoff had taken her rolling luggage as well, allowing Anna to walk with no more encumbrance than her cane and inflamed hip joint.

Anna spotted the Dodge Charger. The occupants of the car spotted her. They came boiling out of the car: a white-haired old sage, an ample woman in a flowing goddess dress and New Age crystals, and a big, brown dog that bounded immediately to lick Kristoff’s face.

The woman was delighted at the sight of Anna. “You’ve brought a girl!” the woman crooned. To the hunched old man, she repeated, “Kristoff’s brought a girl!”

They crowded Kristoff while he put everyone’s luggage into the trunk. “What did you pack in here, Bulda? They feel like they’re filled with rocks.” He quickly made introductions. “Grand Pabbie, Bulda, this is Anna.” He crouched to hug the dog and smiled into another face full of dog licks.

Kristoff with his dog was a truly heartwarming sight, Anna thought. The big, gruff man transformed into a kid, greeting his canine buddy with as much enthusiasm as the dog had for Kristoff. “Who's this?” Anna asked.

With his face against the side of the dog’s shaggy face, Kristoff lifted one of the dog’s paws toward Anna. “Hello Anna,” he spoke for the dog in a silly voice, “I’m Sven. Got any treats?”

Bulda spoke up. “Don’t be put off by Kristoff’s unnatural thing with dog,” she said. “Now, let’s have a look at you.” She invaded Anna’s personal space, held her by the shoulders, looked into her face, and touched Anna’s hair. “Now, where did our Kristoff find you?” she asked.

“It’s not like that,” Kristoff interrupted. “She’s engaged. To someone else.” He scratched the dog’s neck.

“Oh?” Grand Pabbie also seemed interested in the information.

Kristoff made a herding motion. “Let’s get in the car. Do you mind sitting in the back seat?” he asked Anna. He didn’t need to point out the wide roundness of Grand Pabbie. The old man would need the front seat. Anna climbed in. Sven followed and took a position in the middle, with Bulda on the other side of Sven. Kristoff climbed into the driver’s seat.

Bulda leaned over the dog. “Now dear, I don’t see a ring,” she started.

Kristoff’s tone came with warning, “Bulda…”

“So,” Anna said to divert the conversation away from her dating availability, “are you just visiting for Turkey Day? Or are you visiting through the holidays?”

“We’re staying,” Grand Pabbie said with amusement in his voice. “We live in Fremont.”

“Fremont’s nice!” Anna responded.

Kristoff said, “You may have heard their show on KPXY. They’re The Love Experts.”

“The Love Experts!” Anna laughed before she could stop herself.

“Yes, The Love Experts,” Kristoff repeated.

“It’s a reboot of the 1970s game show,” Grand Pabbie explained. “Callers come to us for advice on all sorts of problems.”

“And the audience votes for who had the most interesting relationship problem,” Bulda contributed. “That person gets a chance to win a prize.”

Anna said, “That seems a little cynical.”

“Oh no. It’s all in good fun,” replied Bulda. “We keep the mood light. People respond best to criticism if it’s sweetened with a little something. We advise on all kinds of love: romantic, sexual, family. Like your situation. What’s going on with you?”

“Ooh, well,” Anna deflected, “I’m going home to my sister, who I haven’t spoken to since we had a big fight in summer. I mean, we’ve emailed. But we haven’t talked.”

“And what did you fight about?” Bulda encouraged.

“Things,” Anna said. “Trust. She has every reason to trust me, but she doesn’t listen to what I have to say. She acts like what I say is impossible, and then she goes and does _that,_ anyway, but not in the way I meant it.”

She could see Kristoff’s confused face in the side view mirror. Grand Pabbie made a ruminating noise. “Trust. That’s an issue of the heart, not the head,” he said.

Anna leaned against the window, feeling like she was back on her own neglected farm, turning the compost pile of feelings that she had left alone for months. “Well, sometimes I think her heart is a chunk of ice,” she said. She was sorry after saying it, and wanted to take it back.

Bulba tutted. “Ooh, no.” She both scolded and soothed. “People under stress make bad choices, if they’re mad or scared. That’s when they need a little love the most.”

Anna caught the reflection of Kristoff’s eyes again. He seemed concerned. But when their eyes met, he turned away from the mirror. “What do you think about Flowers for lunch?” he asked. “Parking’s not great, but it’s on the way.”

Bulda confided to Anna, “We weren’t always vegetarian.” She winked, and Anna didn’t know what make of that. It was a sort of creepy thing for the New Age lady to say.

* * *

 

After dropping off Anna post-lunch, at the front door of her house, Kristoff made sure to drive away before Bulda could find an excuse to invite herself into Anna’s home. It meant leaving Anna with her luggage on the driveway instead of helping her inside with it. But when Bulda spoke up, he was glad he had.

“Get that fiancé out of the way and she’ll be fixed right up,” Bulda said. “He didn’t even pick her up from the airport.”

Kristoff didn’t even want to respond. The problem was, he was thinking the same thing.

* * *

 

Elsa came awake at a sound. Her eyes opened and awareness rolled in like a wave over sand. _I dozed off,_ she thought. The sound again, coming from the hallway beyond her closed door. Voices. Kai, Anna.

“Anna!” she gasped, climbing further into wakefulness. She took in her surroundings. Afternoon sun. Her bedroom. Her bed. Flynn, sleeping with his head nestled against her breast. She moved her arm and he blinked awake.

“D’d she text yet?” he asked through a yawn.

Elsa hopped out of bed and surveyed the clothes on the floor for a hint of what to do next. She picked up a shirt. It was Flynn’s. She tossed it onto the bed, and the rest of his clothes after it, as she separated them out from hers. “She’s here,” Elsa told him. Her distress was evident in her voice.

“I thought she was going to let us know when plane landed,” Flynn said. He started dressing. “When did she get in? We were going to pick her up?”

“Yes!” Elsa gave up on her clothes and grabbed her grey silk robe off the back of the bathroom door. “We fell asleep. After…” she trailed off, walking back toward him.

Flynn’s deep, sleepy laugh and smug smile got an answering smile from Elsa. He stopped dressing and pulled her back down onto her mattress.

Brisk knocking on the bedroom door made them both jump. “Just a minute!” Elsa called out. Flynn gathered up the remainder of his clothes while Elsa shooed him out of bed and into the bathroom. She threw his shoes in after him and shut the door in a hurry. Flynn opened the bathroom door again, drew her close, and gave her a fast smooch before darting back into the bathroom behind the closing door.

Elsa scurried to her bedroom door and pulled it open. “Anna!” she exclaimed happily, wrapping herself around her sister. She hopped back. Tightening her robe, she said, “We were going to get you from the airport.” She took in the sight of Anna leaning on the utilitarian cane.

Kai came down the hall from Anna’s room, no doubt having ported her bags for her. He seemed about to say something until he saw Elsa’s attire. The glance he cast past her, into her room, told Elsa he was aware that she had been alone with Flynn and recognized the activity that must have kept them occupied. Looking distinctly uncomfortable with the knowledge, he escaped down the stairs.

Anna ambled into Elsa’s room. “I got in hours ago. Are you just now noticing?”

“I completely lost track of time,” Elsa said. When Anna sat down on Elsa’s messy bed, Elsa made a wish for Anna not to notice the evidence of a sexy afternoon. “I’m sorry. I meant to be there.” She crossed the room and gave Anna another hug. “I missed you. I’m glad you’re back.” She pulled at the bedcovers with one hand to tidy them.

Anna tightened the hug. “I missed you too!” she proclaimed. She drew back and squinted at Elsa. “Are you naked?” she asked. She looked Elsa over, clearly noting the tousle of Elsa’s hair.

Elsa hesitated to answer. “Um…”

When Anna looked around the bedroom, Elsa cringed at the awareness dawning on her sister’s face. “Were you having nookie while I was waiting at the airport?” she accused loudly. A clatter -- the metal soap dish falling into the sink -- came from the bathroom. Anna started to stand, but made a face of pain and sat back down. Instead, she shouted to the bathroom door, “You can come out now!”

Elsa’s ears burned with blushing as Flynn opened the door and sauntered out. He was, at least, fully dressed again. “Hi,” he said to Anna. He sounded more proud than embarrassed. Elsa was embarrassed enough for both of them.

Anna looked at Elsa with an assessing smile that only made Elsa more bashful about the situation. She paced away, finger combing her hair into some semblance of good grooming. Flynn stood with his hands on his hips. Anna’s arms crossed. “Mm-hm,” she commented wordlessly.

Flynn spread his hands, and with a slight shrug and a smile said, “We do that.”

“We’re all adults…” Elsa submitted.

“Yes we are,” Anna agreed. “Don’t worry about being too, uh, _busy_ to pick me up. I got a ride from my Uber driver.”

“Oh. Good,” Elsa said. Flynn came over and snuggled up behind her, putting his arms around her in a comforting way. Which was nice, but also made Elsa feel conflicted because she felt more than simply comforted, and Anna was in the room.

Anna teased, “Should I leave?” She pushed herself up to her feet.

Elsa, wiggling out of Flynn's arms, protested. “We should catch up.” She turned to address Flynn over her shoulder. “Could you wait in the library? Oh, first bring me something from the kitchen. I’m famished.” She turned to Anna. “Are you hungry?”

“I ate lunch at a vegetarian restaurant. So, yes,” Anna answered, “I’m hungry.”

Flynn offered, “I’ll order us pizza. Delfino’s?”

Elsa would have demurred against such a high-fat suggestion, but she saw Anna’s eyes light up at the idea of Chicago style deep dish. “And a salad,” she said to Flynn, instead. She shared another distracting kiss with Flynn, and then he went out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Anna said, “I can’t believe you forgot about me because you were having sex.”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa answered, hoping her sincerity showed. “I really am.”

“I’m happy that you are,” Anna said.

“That I’m sorry?”

“That you’re getting room service,” Anna answered. “He does seem to be a keeper.”

“He does,” Elsa said. She started dressing, first going to her chest of drawers for underwear that she shimmied up under the hem of her robe. A pair of designer jeans followed. She pulled a camisole over her head, then traded the covering of the camisole for the covering of the robe.

“You’re doing pretty well for being new to this kind of thing,” Anna commented.

Elsa hung her up her robe. “Can we please stop talking about my love life?” she asked.

“Uh-uh. I’m way too curious.”

Elsa speared her with a look. She busied herself with choosing shoes. After a while, to end the waiting silence, she said, “Alright. Ask me.”

Anna crowed victory. “Oh boy, do I have questions,” she started. “First of all, how is it? Are you being taken care of? You know, do you have-- ”

Elsa cut her off. “ _Yes,_ ” she emphasized. “Flynn knows what he’s doing.” She couldn’t help smiling after saying it.

“That’s so great!” Anna cheered. “I’m so glad for you!” She was entirely sincere. “Now, how serious is it?”

“We’re sleeping together. I would say that’s serious,” Elsa answered.

“That’s not that serious. Serious is when you’re imagining what color eyes your babies will have.”

“Oh lord, Anna.”

“So is it true love?”

Elsa sat down next to her sister. “Oh, Anna. Do you even know what true love is?”

“Rude,” Anna retorted.

“What I’m trying to say,” Elsa corrected, “is, how can I even answer that? Is true love a real thing?”

Anna frowned, still miffed. “Well, has he said it to you?” she asked. “‘I love you’?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Have you said it to him?”

“Of course I did. You can’t hold back when someone says that to you.”

“I love you, sister,” Anna said. Her face was smug with triumph.

Elsa smiled. “I love you, Anna.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m so happy you’re back, and I have been thinking about how to be a better sister to you the whole time you’ve been gone. I want you to believe that I _am_ going to listen to you, so I want us to talk about anything that comes up. Talk, not fight.”

“Elsa, that’s what I want, too,” Anna said. “I want to know all about you. But when I reach for you, you slap my hand away, you close the door in my face.”

“I don’t do that,” Elsa denied.

“Maybe not on purpose, but yeah, you do. What are you afraid of? You can tell me anything. I’m not going to judge you for it.”

“How can you not judge me for it?” Elsa asked dryly. “That’s saying you won’t have an opinion.”

“I might have an opinion, but that’s different than judging,” Anna denied. “We should talk about the things that are really important. The deepest, darkest secrets shouldn’t be secrets between us.”

“I… think you just want to know if I prefer cowgirl or missionary,” Elsa teased.

Anna rolled her eyes. “Duh, cowgirl. Right? But while you’re on that topic, I am going to ask. I know you’re on the pill because of your meds, and I can see by the condom wrapper you’re trying to hide under your blankets that you’re practicing safer sex. But have you been tested? I mean, not you probably, but him?”

The question gave Elsa pause. “I hadn’t asked,” she said. “And how do you know, ‘not me probably’?”

“Please,” Anna replied. “Whenever you did it the first time, I bet you went right to the doctor’s office afterward.”

“No, I didn’t. Should I have?”

Anna let her cane rest against the bed. She reached over and put her hands on Elsa’s upper arms. “I hope not,” she said.

“Because Flynn was my first,” Elsa blurted.

“Well, then you should definitely have that talk,” Anna said. “It’s not so much that I think he might give you an STD as that, if you’re not open with your lover about safe sex, how are you going to be open about your needs? Which doesn’t sound like a problem with you two. Lucky you.” She looked at her sister. “Gosh, I hope he made it really nice, with music and candlelight and all the romance,” she said.

“It was a little more spontaneous than that,” Elsa confessed.

“Details?”

Elsa hid her face in her hand, smiling as she remembered. “I can’t say it,” she admitted.

“Aww.” Anna shifted over so that she could lay her head dramatically on Elsa’s shoulder. She pouted.

“Anyway, the details are blurry,” Elsa evaded. “I’ll mix it up with all the other times.”

Anna’s pout disappeared with her grin. Her eyes became distinctly starry. “He makes you happy. That’s so sweet.”

“Now, Anna,” Elsa said, “speaking of doctor visits. Have you made an appointment with a hip specialist?”

Anna groaned. “They’re just going to make me do PT again. It will be fine on its own in another week or so. I’ve had strained muscles before. My hip’s just bruised from being dislocated.”

“I hate seeing you in pain,” Elsa said.

“I have pain killers, but they make me loopy,” Anna said. “Sleeping in a real bed and not being stuck immobile on a plane for hours will fix me up. I won’t even need this thing.” She pointed at her cane. “Isn’t it the ugliest?”

“Like something an old man would use,” Elsa agreed. “But what’s so bad about physical therapy? You get massages,” she said.

“They’re not the relaxing kind of massage,” Anna said. “I swear, physical therapists are all sadists. They positively enjoy inflicting ‘healing pain’. Listen, I was thinking we should go hit a spa, warm up in the sauna. Get good massages. After pizza, though.”

“What about the floating pools, instead? I’ve been wanting to try sensory deprivation, and we could all go.”

“If we go to Banya5, Flynn can go with us.” Anna suggested the Russian sauna instead because it was not exclusively for women, as her favorite place was. Floating in a pod of epson salt water was not Anna’s thing.

“Do you want to invite Hans, too?” Elsa offered an olive branch.

“Mm, it’s probably not pretentious enough for him,” Anna said.

Elsa took the opportunity to ask. “How are things going with you two?”

“I don’t know,” Anna said. “He hasn’t had a lot of time for me. Some people aren’t any good at long distance, I guess.” She looked at her hands. “Maybe now that I’m back, I’ll get a ring to make it official.”

Elsa asked, “Does a ring change things?”

Anna nodded emphatically. “The ring matters. Do you remember _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_? It was just a Cracker Jack prize, but it was so romantic. And then there’s Kate Middleton’s sapphire engagement ring, that was Princess Diana’s. The ring is important. I want to be able to hold out my hand and say, that’s what he thinks when he thinks of me.”

“It seems to me that an engagement ring is a reminder that you’re reserved for your fiancé,” Elsa said. “To keep you from changing your mind.”

“Maybe it is a little bit of that, too,” Anna replied.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to put it out there that there is NO sexually transmitted disease subplot happening here.
> 
> Links for you:  
> [Fremont Troll](http://fremont.com/about/fremonttroll-html/)  
> [Flowers Restaurant](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Flowers-Bar-Restaurant/111624532206948), [Delfino's Pizza](https://uvillage.com/delfinos-chicago-style-pizza/)  
> [Olympus Spa](http://olympusspa.net/lynnwood/tour-image.aspx?intAlbumID=18), [ Urban Float](https://www.urbanfloat.com/floating-explained/),[Banya5](https://www.banya5.com/facility/)


	12. Twelve

**“...Nine PM,Thanksgiving night...”**

Kai opened the front door to the parade: Hans leading, followed by Anna in a wheelchair with Elsa attentively behind her, Flynn bringing up the end, carrying Anna’s overnight bag, and everyone brushing off flakes of the snow that had started to fall. Anna moaned with what sounded like happiness. She raised her arms. “Now _that_ is what Thanksgiving should smell like,” she proclaimed. “Roasting turkey and stuffing, and I know there is a pumpkin pecan cheesecake waiting for me to stuff in my face.”

Hans responded, “Good to know your priorities didn’t get broken along with your femur.”

“Nope! Takes more than a fall down some stairs to put me off food,” Anna stated, her theatrical energy a by product of strong pain medication. “And no way was I staying in a hospital on Thanksgiving.”

Kai closed the door behind them. “We kept dinner warm. The table is set.” He indicated the direction to the dining room with outstretched arms. “Please, if you will.”

“Thank you, Kai,” Elsa said, collecting herself out of her distress. Fraught with worry over Anna, she wrung her hands against each other, as she had been doing continuously for the hours since rushing to the hospital emergency room.

“I, for one, am starving,” Flynn said.

“Then let’s eat!” said Anna. “Who’s got my chair? Push faster.”

Hans took the handles of the rented wheelchair and rolled Anna down the hall. Anna rolled her head back to bat her eyelashes at him. He spared a hand to pat her head. “I’m not going to carry you up three flights after the tryptophan kicks in,” he told her.

Anna pouted. She whimpered, “I won’t get to sleep in my room.”

Elsa supplied a rushed solution. “We can move you into the sun parlor. Don’t worry about anything, Anna.” To the men, she said, “You’ll help bring her bed down, won’t you? She can’t sleep on the settee.”

Hans raised an eyebrow at Flynn, but Flynn answered Elsa in an unwavering affirmative. “Anything you need, Sweetheart.” To Anna, he said, “We’ll get you all set up.”

“Everyone is happy that you are alright,” Hans contributed.

“But I’m not alright,” Anna complained. “Now I’m stuck in this stupid chair and it’s worse than using a cane. How am I supposed to go to the bathroom?!” Anna continued to rant, becoming increasingly irascible.

“It’s the pain pills,” Flynn murmured to Elsa, holding her back in the hall while Hans rolled Anna into the dining room..

“It’s not. Anna’s the worst when she’s had an injury,” Elsa said only loud enough for him to hear. She looked at him with weariness across her face. “Oh, Flynn. This is just awful. For Anna.” Her fingers wrapped around her left hand, covering the strip of tinsel tied in a bow on her ring finger. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Listen,” he soothed, “one thing at a time, OK? Let’s have Thanksgiving, set up the room for her, and do things as they come.” He smiled at her. He kissed her, sensually, on her trembling lips.

“Flynn, I can’t leave Anna alone tonight,” Elsa said sadly. “Even if the snow doesn’t stick…”

Flynn didn’t have to interrupt her. Elsa trailed off without finishing her thought. “I know you can’t come to my place,” he said. “But I could stay here, couldn’t I? Easy solution.”

It brought a smile out of Elsa, her first smile in hours. “Yes, you could,” she agreed.

Flynn traced her smile with his thumb. “That’s the smile I like to see,” he said, “future Mrs. Rider.”

* * *

**“...Twelve hours earlier…”**

When the elevator doors opened onto Han’s floor and a stunning, black-haired lady stepped in, Flynn changed his mind about getting out. She looked at him and smiled. “You don’t need this floor?” she asked. Her hand hovered over the button for the lobby. The elevator doors closed.

Flynn shook his head. “Congratulations on the election, Counsilmember,” he greeted after a moment.

“Thank you. I intend to change our city for the better. We have the opportunity to lead our region toward a better quality of life for every person, away from oppression of the oligarchy. But you’re familiar with my goals, Flynn. I don’t think I need to reiterate them to you.”

“Preaching to the choir, Esmeralda,” Flynn answered amiably.

“Come down from the choir loft sometime,” she replied. “We do our best work when we stand together.”

The ding of the elevator announced arrival at the lobby level. Before Esmeralda stepped out, Flynn said, “Thanks for your help.”

Esmeralda turned her head over her shoulder to answer him as she started into the lobby. “My pleasure. I understand it’s for a good cause.”

Flynn selected the elevator button for Hans’s floor again, and rode up thinking about the work Esmerelda gave her dedication to. She had been a fiery personality even when they met in the group home, but she had turned her adolescent anger against the imbalances of society. She took a path into politics, where she could bring all the outcasts up from the gutter, whereas Flynn had found he could climb higher, faster, looking out for himself. Flynn supported her cause in his own way. There was a lot of liberal guilt among Washington State’s wealthy that he had been able to tap for her.

Hans answered his door in a chipper mood. Flynn handed him the bag from Nielsen’s Bakery before shedding his coat and hanging it on the coat rack. Peaking inside the white paper bag, Hans growled, “Mmm, snitter.” He headed into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

Flynn made himself at home, flopping down on the designer sofa. “Love some,” he answered. He put his feet up on the coffee table. “You’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner tonight, aren’t you?” he called out over the noise of the coffee grinder.

Hans came out of the kitchen.”I have a date,” he answered.

“Well, reschedule it.” Flynn was playing devil’s advocate. “Anna is back in town and you have hardly seen her at all, as I understand it.”

“I’ve seen her,” said Hans. “Besides, I don’t have to chase that muppet anymore, not as long as you’re working on securing Elsa long term.”

“I need you to keep the sister happy,” said Flynn. “Who are you seeing these days, anyway?”

Hans loved the question because he loved to brag. His eyes lit up with glee. “You just missed Esmeralda Notre Dame,” he said. “And tomorrow, it will be the lovely Miss Ashe waking me with that special talent she has.”

“Not unless you plan to pick her up _after_ final curtain tonight,” Flynn said. “Because tonight you are having dinner at the Arendelles. You can be free to do who you want after the clock tolls midnight.”

“Listen.” Hans carried his pastry over, took a large bite, and sat down on the ottoman opposite Flynn. “I’m done with Anna. Anna was fun when she was useful, and now -- look at her.” His eyes took on the glint that reminded Flynn that Hans had no true fraternal feeling for him. “What’s the hold up with Elsa? Why am I not hearing organ arrangements of Mendelson? I had Anna picking out a cake topper within a week.” 

“Because that went so well,” Flynn muttered.

“I want a Save the Date card on my refrigerator by Christmas, or else we have a problem.”

Flynn would have wished Hans _some_ kind of STD by Christmas, if it weren’t for the communicability to the ladies helping Flynn keep Hans off Anna. 

“It wouldn’t hurt for our new councilwoman to help out the District Attorney’s office and show that even a socialist can be tough on crime,” Hans threatened.

“What are you talking about?” Flynn stalled.

“I’m _talking_ about _you_ marrying _money_ ,” Hans intoned. “You’ll never get a better set up than a community property state. She’s even young and pretty, for those that like that type. It’s been four months. You’re not getting any younger, and neither am I. It’s time to level up.”

Flynn silently seethed. Like everything in Hans’s perspective, it was all about Hans getting to be king of the mountain. On the outside, Flynn remained cool. He even chuckled, like a good ol’ boy caught peeping at dirty pictures. “Hans, I’ve got to keep Elsa happy. It’s all about her sister right now, and if you’re not there at dinner playing the adoring boyfriend for Anna, Elsa’s going to retreat from intimacy faster than your hairline is receding from your forehead.”

“Har-de-har,” Hans responded.

“The holidays are the season of romance,” Flynn continued to snow Hans. “Now, you’ve got to know, Elsa is a blue blood in ways her sister is not. She moves like a glacier. It could be a three year engagement--”

“Right now, it’s no engagement,” Hans cut him off. “We know her type. Once your engagement is in the society papers, it’s as good as prophecy. She wouldn’t be able to back out without looking a fool. She would have to go through with the marriage, even if she divorced you six months later. And as long as there is no prenup, that’s all you need for both of us to get our cut of the mountain of old money.”

“And I’m saying, keep your shirt on,” Flynn responded. “Santa’s gonna bring you your stocking stuffer.”

Hans snorted. “You mean _your_ ‘stocking stuffer’,” he lewdly implied.

“Yeah, that too.” When Flynn was done with Hans, he was going to bring Elsa the biggest bouquet of roses he could find and not tell her what the apology was for. Flynn stood up. “Nevermind that coffee. I’m in the mood for a doppio macchiato.”

Hans leapt up. “Ah! The press!” he exclaimed, remembering the French press coffee that was steeping. He jogged toward the kitchen.

Flynn shouted toward him. “So tonight! Get there by four. They’re serving early!” He headed to the door. “I’ll see you there?” He waited until Hans hollered back in the affirmative. Then Flynn put on his coat and left.

* * *

**“...Fifteen hours before Thanksgiving dinner…”**

Elsa snorted awake. Yawning, she blinked her eyes at the sight of Flynn standing beside the bed, dressed, holding a mug. She was getting used to waking up in his bed. He was usually in it with her.

“Did I oversleep?” she asked.

“No, it’s early,” Flynn answered. “Peppermint hot chocolate?”

Elsa reached for it. Peppermint hot chocolate was better than peppermint toothpaste. Anyway, her mouth didn’t taste all that bad. She kept a toothbrush at Flynn’s, now, as well as overnight face cream and any other toiletries she needed to use before sleeping. She sipped.

“Did I make it right?” he asked.

She loved the attention he heaped on her. “Perfect,” she answered. “Is this one of your holiday traditions?”

Flynn sat down. With a smile, he said, “I don’t have holiday traditions. Unless you want to consider watching HBO and eating takeout from the ID tradition.”

“You don’t have a TV,” Elsa replied, calling him out on his exaggeration. “What about from when you were a child? Did you put up Christmas decorations, or go to Zoo lights, or cut snowflakes out of paper?”

He pat the sheet covering her leg. His hand was warm from holding the cocoa mug. “I don’t have holiday traditions,” he repeated. His return to cheer seemed forced. “Maybe we can start making some together.”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa apologized for bringing up what she guessed were sad memories. She wanted him to open up to her, but sympathetically, she didn’t want him to feel pressured to tell her his inner thoughts. She felt that he gave her that respect, too.

“What for?” He took one of her hands in his and kissed it. “Elsa, I need to head out. I’m leaving you my spare key on the hook by the door. If you head home before I get back, I’ll see you tonight.” His eyes roved over her figure under the sheets. He made a noise of regret as he got up to leave.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked. She hoped the question sounded innocent, because Anna wouldn’t need her for hours, and Elsa had a plan cooking up in her mind.

He paused at the top of the stairs. “Do you want me to text you when I’m heading back?”

“That would be perfect,” she answered. She slid out of bed and padded over, mug in hand, to give him a kiss on the cheek before he left. She stood at the top of the stairs until she heard him leave out the apartment door.

Being Flynn’s girlfriend was a strange thing, she thought. He waited on her hand and foot, and she had to admit that she liked it while at the same time feeling that the attention bordered on adoration. Which made her wonder if he was seeing _her_ , or if she had hidden so much of her real self from him that he had filled in the rest with a dream. Maybe it wasn’t wrong. Her parents had been that happy together.

She wanted to do something for Flynn this time. While she put on clothes, she used her smartphone to order deliveries through one of the services that delivered from anywhere, even on a holiday. First was the tree, a freshly-cut noble fir sized to fit the generous height but small floor space of Flynn’s apartment, complete with stand. Next, she called the city’s oldest theater and costume store and negotiated them into assembling a package of tasteful decorations, approving the snowflake tree topper when she saw the messaged photo and effectively conveying that she wanted more Yule and less Santas-and-Baby-Jesus. Finally, after an inspection of Flynn’s refrigerator and cupboards, she ordered a few things from a nearby deli that would make a ready-to-eat lunch whenever Flynn returned.

For the next few hours, Elsa decorated the tree. She didn’t think that Flynn would forget to text message her before he was on the way home. When he did text, it was from the lobby. Her phone was on a nearby bookshelf, and she saw the notification, but since her hands were sticky with fir tree resin, she assumed she had a few minutes yet to hang more glass ornaments among the garland and lights. She was still on the ladder when Flynn came through the door. She began hurrying down at the sound of his keys, but she was still a mess of errant glitter and evergreen needles when she was caught.

“What’s… this about?” he asked over the top of the double bouquet of red roses he carried.

“What are those about?” Elsa indicated the roses.

“It’s…”

“They’re…”

“...for you,” they said in near unison.

Elsa laughed softly and looked away. As Flynn crossed the room toward the unexpected tree, she said, “Surprise.”

Flynn didn’t seem to know what to do with the roses he was holding. He finally set them down on the floor next to the ornament boxes and unused tinsel so that he could take Elsa in his embrace and kiss her soundly. After pulling away, he asked, again, “What is all this for?”

“It beats cable TV and take out Chinese, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Of course you’ll have Christmas with me and Anna, but this can be yours and mine. If you like it, that is.”

“I’m speechless,” he laughed.

“This hasn’t been a good time of year for me in a long time,” Elsa said, offering him something more about herself. “Thanksgiving is like a countdown. When all the Christmas lights come down after New Year, it’s the anniversary of my parents being gone. We had the funeral on the twelfth day of Christmas, January sixth. I didn’t realize it at the time, because we’ve always celebrated Yule -- Winter Solstice -- rather than December twenty-fifth.” Her mess was already getting on him, so she didn’t resist when he pulled her closer to him.

“Your birthday’s the twenty-first,” he said.

“That’s right,” she confirmed.

He kissed her temple, nosing aside the loose locks there before his lips met skin. It gave her a frisson of desire. He said, “I’ve been on my own so long, I forgot what it was like to have a Christmas tree. Thank you.” He moved his lips down to hers. “Thank you. Sincerely.” He reached for the roses, going down on one knee to lift them from the floor. He stopped, still genuflecting, looked away from the flowers, and looked up at Elsa with a serious expression. “Elsa.”

She smiled down at him. “What?”

He took her left hand in his hand. “Will you marry me?” he asked, all at once.

Elsa didn’t think she had heard him right. She reviewed what he had said in her mind. It was still the same question. “Did you just propose marriage to me?” she asked, almost without breath because she seemed to have lost the ability to inhale.

“I did,” he said, wincing.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Yes?” he echoed. 

“Yes!” She smiled broadly and shrugged. Helplessly, she giggled. When he rocketed to his feet and lifted her up off the floor with his excited embrace, she giggled more. He set her down on her tip-toes. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

After a volley of kisses, he pulled away enough to say, “I don’t have a ring for you yet, but--” he picked up the flowers and pulled a filament of tinsel from the box, “I will.” He put the roses into the crook of her right arm so that he could tie a simple bow, like a string reminder, around the ring finger of her left hand. “It will be beautiful. Like you,” he said.

The perfume of the roses mingled with the pungence of the evergreen sap. She studied the man she had just agreed to marry, overwhelmed by the moment. She loved his long eyelashes, his thick brows, the curve of his lips. “What do we do now?” she asked.

A gleam sparkled in his eyes. “We could preview our wedding night,” he suggested.

Elsa pressed the roses up to her face. The soft petals caressed her skin. She inhaled their scent. “Have you ever thought about making love on a bed of rose petals?” she asked.

* * *

Flynn came home with Elsa, and the first thing Elsa did was find Anna to tell her the news. Anna was in the entertainment room, playing a video game. She had a headset on and was trash talking another player while she smashed buttons. Elsa sidled into the room, Flynn a step behind her, and they both took seats and waited for Anna. She stopped smashing buttons.

“Hang on. I’ve got another call,” she lied to the microphone. She muted the headset, pulled it off and tossed it aside with the controller. She looked from Elsa to Flynn and back again. “What happened?” Her anticipatory smile showed that she guessed it was worth blowing off her game.

Elsa sang the first measure of the bridal chorus for _Lohengrin’s_ Elsa _,_ “Bam pum pa dum...” 

“Here comes the bride,” Anna sang in echo. Her eyes went wide and she gasped. “Oh, Elsa!” She looked at Flynn. “You didn’t!”

Flynn held up his hands, palms out. “Engaged!” he clarified.

“ _Engaged,_ ” Elsa said, her left hand up to show the tinsel bow.

“Of course you wouldn’t elope. What was I thinking?” Anna said with sigh. Her mock disappointment transformed back into thrilled approval. “Elsa, I’m so excited for you. Best wishes!” She tried to jump up from the armchair to hug her sister, but her injured hip made her waddle slowly over instead. “Flynn, congratulations!” She canted sideways to hug him, too, before going back to hugging Elsa. “Tell me everything. What’s with the tinsel? When’s the date? How did you propose? Wait -- you don’t have to tell me how if it’s NC-17. Elsa can tell me later.”

“I’ll have a ring soon,” Flynn stated.

“It wasn’t X-rated,” Elsa said. “Flynn proposed with roses. On bent knee,” she proudly revealed.

“Oh my goodness…” Anna’s face scrunched up with emotion. “That’s so romantic!”

Flynn rubbed the back of his neck and looked embarrassed. Elsa wove her fingers through his and squeezed his hand. She said, “I wanted you to be the first to know the news.”

Anna looked closed to tears. “I’m so excited,” she reiterated.

Elsa stood up. “I’m going to tell Kai and Gerda, and see if they need any help getting dinner ready. Is it just the five of us?”

“Hans is coming,” Anna answered. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure. But he said he would be here at four.”

“That’s good!” Elsa said with a smile for her sister’s happiness. 

“We need champagne!” Anna started hobbling toward the hall. “To celebrate!”

“We’ll have champagne with dinner,” Elsa protested.

“Not with turkey.” Anna made a face. “Wine with dinner. Champagne toast now.”

Elsa warned, “It goes right to your head…”

“Hans won’t be here for hours,” Anna said. “I’ll take a nap and sleep off the bubbly.”

* * *

**“...Thanksgiving night, Eleven-thirty PM...”**

Thumping his end of the heavy bed back down to the carpet, Hans said, “This isn’t going to work.”

Flynn cast a helpless look to Kai, who had been hovering over their efforts to move Anna’s bed out of her room and downstairs. “He’s right,” Flynn told Kai. “We’re not going to be able to get this down to the sun parlor.”

“We could carry Miss Anna upstairs,” Kai suggested again.

Hans groaned at the memory. He and Flynn had attempted to basket carry Anna in their arms, but she was athletically heavy and there were too many flights of stairs. “It’s too risky,” Hans advised in caring tones. “If Anna were to sleepwalk again, even a fall from her bed could be much worse.”

“I’ll see if Miss Elsa has some ideas,” Kai said. He left them and headed down to the first floor, where Elsa remained with Anna.

“Finally,” Flynn said at Kai’s retreat. “Hans, you have to take Anna.” He forestalled Hans from arguing. “We’re at a critical point. I told you I’d come through on getting engaged, and I did.”

“Rather quickly,” Hans sniped. “Makes me wonder if you were holding back.”

“I took an opportunity,” Flynn said. “But Elsa will back out if she thinks we’re rushing it. You’ve got to help me show her that an engagement is a promise to take care of each other, a promise you made to Anna months ago and haven’t done much to support.”

“The frost queen doesn’t want me for a brother-in-law.”

“And you’re not going to be. But tonight? You’re going to open your home, in a building with an elevator, to a girl you claimed to want to marry. ‘The One,’ to use her words. You're going to take Anna home, ply her with creature comforts, and secure _my_ future wedding. Are we on the same page?” Flynn slipped into his role so easily that it made him feel slimey.

Hans grumbled. “You…”

“It’s worth one broken date,” Flynn warned.

“Fine. How long?”

“However long it takes,” Flynn said. “We’ll figure out the details after the weekend. For now, Anna will be staying with you in your guest bedroom, and Elsa and I will come visit every day.”

“Who sleepwalks in the middle of the day to fall down a stairwell in their own house? Too bad she didn’t break her neck instead of a femur.”

“Be glad she didn’t.” Flynn wanted to push Hans down the stairs. “This family has had enough tragedy.”

Hans shook his head, seething in self pity. “We’d better get away with this scheme,” he muttered.

Flynn slapped him on the shoulder. “Relax,” he said. “Visualize that we already have.”

 

* * *

Snitter: A flat cinnamon roll with custard and icing.


	13. Thirteen

**“There’s a Manchester in New Hampshire, too”**

Elsa could guess what Anna thought of the applicant by the sour expression on Anna’s face, but Anna held back saying anything until Hans closed the door behind the health care worker that had just left. “Veto,” Anna muttered.

“She was very qualified,” Hans said in a honeyed voice.

Elsa squeezed Anna’s hand. “We’ll find someone for you,” she soothed Anna. “But that’s the end of the list from the agency. Would you reconsider them, maybe one of them is worth a try?”

“I don’t need a nanny,” Anna complained. “I can take care of myself. All I need is someone to drive me to PT appointments.”

“You need more care than that,” Elsa contradicted, “for now. A home care worker is the best solution.” Aware of the passing time, she got up to leave. “I have to go, but I’ll be back in the afternoon. Call me if you need anything.” She hugged Anna.

Anna mustered a grumpy smile. “Bye, Elsa.”

Elsa collected her coat and hat. She gave Hans a quick, polite smile of parting as she left his condominium. She still didn’t approve of Hans, but he _had_ offered the helpful solution of having Anna stay with him until she was recovered enough not to need level floors and an elevator. The condo had beautiful view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains. It was decorated with taste. Anna was installed in guest bedroom, with a study as the room across the hall. She would be close to the kitchen. Hans’s bedroom and the master bathroom were on the other side of the condo unit.

Anna might have be alright on her own, but Elsa knew that Anna would skip physical therapy and spend all day in front of the television, sulking, without someone to manage her. But so far, Anna had not liked any of the home health care specialists that the sisters had interviewed together. Elsa was considering simply picking one and fighting with Anna until she accepted Elsa’s decision.

Stepping out of the elevator, Elsa saw a woman hurrying across the lobby to catch the elevator before it closed. She was in disarray, trying to manage a handbag, several totes, and a small pet carrier. Her hip length, straight blonde hair seemed to have a mind of its own, and the woman juggled bags to free a hand long enough to push errant swaths back behind her shoulder. Elsa put her hand on the elevator door to hold it, and waited for the woman until she scampered through the doors and into the elevator.

The blonde beamed a smile like sunshine at Elsa. “Thank you so much!” she gasped, out of breath from running. She pressed a floor choice as soon as Elsa moved her arm out of the door sensor path.

“You’re welcome.” Elsa continued looking at her until the doors closed completely.

She wondered if the woman lived in the building. Her folksy style seemed out of place in the conservative mood of the condo building, and her bags and hurry had given her an air of someone who had just come in from running barefoot in a meadow, free as a bumblebee among the wildflowers. Elsa closed her eyes and thought she caught a wisp of floral scent. Whoever she was, she smelled good.

* * *

 

Rapunzel slumped against the elevator wall. “Whew! Pascal, we made it,” she said. She dropped her bags to the floor, all but the pet carrier. That, she lifted level to her eyes. Unlatching the wire grid door, she allowed a small chameleon to crawl out onto her hand and scurry up her arm. “We’re a little late but I’m sure that won’t matter, right?’ Pascal latched onto her hair. “You’re going to need to keep a low profile. Got it? Stay hidden.” She pulled at the shoulder of her dress so that the chameleon could go into the puffed sleeve. She brought a lock of her long hair over to hide him further.

She was still adjusting his position when she stepped out of the elevator. Her destination was the unit directly across from the elevator. She was suddenly nervous. More was riding on her getting this job than securing a paycheck.

* * *

 

“And what was wrong with that one?” Hans interrogated Anna after Elsa left.

“I didn’t like her,” Anna said without elaborating. “I don’t like any of them.”

“You have to pick one. I can’t continue waiting on you hand and foot. I have places to be.”

Anna crossed her arms. “I don’t ask you for anything,” she challenged. “You’re gone all the time, too busy for me, and when you are here you act like I’m throwing off your interior decorating!”

Hans sat on the back of the sofa, his shoulders turned toward Anna slouched in his very expensive Wasili recliner. Her crutches lay on the floor next to it. He worried about her leg brace chafing the leather. He glared at her. “Ever since you got here, it’s been one complaint after another. You snipe about everything.”

“Well, excuse me for not skipping with joy and singing to little birdies. You may have noticed that skipping is a little beyond me at the moment.” Anna glared back.

“I’ve been gracious about opening my home to you, taking on this burden without hesitation --”

“So sorry for being a burden!” Anna shouted in frustration. She was suddenly close to tears.

Hans gentled his tone. “I mean burden in the most positive way,” he attempted to mollify her. Without success. “Anna, please. I’m sure you are tired. Let’s go through the list again, pick your top three, and we can all go over them tonight and decide then.”

Anna was looking at the list on her tablet. “There’s still one I haven’t seen. May as well call her and tell her not to bother coming.”

“Is there one?” Hans asked. He looked at his watch. “Look at the time. If Flynn isn’t here soon, there won’t be an unreserved squash court left.” As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door.

“Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit around here alone for the next five hours until Elsa comes back. It’ll be a flashback to my childhood.”

With a sigh, Hans went to open the door.

The woman standing at the door pulled her hand out of her neckline. “Oops! Caught me with my hand in the cookie jar,” she joked. “Hello. I’m Rapunzel Sonne. I’m here for an interview? The agency sent me.” She switched the hands holding her bags, but before she could offer a handshake, Hans ushered her in.

“This is my fiancé, Anna Arendelle,” he drawled introductions. “Anna, this is Rapunzel Sonne.”

Under her breath, Anna muttered,“ _I’m three feet away. There’s nothing wrong with my hearing._ ” At normal volume, she said “Hello,” with a forced smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Rapunzel said.

“Please have a seat, Miss Sonne,” Hans offered.

“Just Rapunzel is fine.” Pascal scuttled out of her bodice and nestled at her shoulder, in plain sight, before Rapunzel could stop him.

Anna’s smile became genuine. “Who's this?” she asked, indicating the chameleon.

“This is Pascal,” Rapunzel said. She appeared embarrassed and relieved at once.

Stepping back to keep his distance from the animal, Hans went to stand behind Anna’s chair. “Why don’t you tell us something about yourself?” he asked Rapunzel.

“Well, I’m originally from Manchester,” Rapunzel said.

Anna brightened with surprise. “Manchester! You don’t sound English.”

“Think _New_ England,” Hans intoned. Rapunzel’s energetic nod confirmed his assertion.

“I’ve only been in the Pacific Northwest for a short time,” Rapunzel explained as she began digging through her various bags. She pulled out odds and ends, seeking. “But I have an extensive background in home care work.” A small pile grew on the couch beside her: a sketchbook, a metal pulley, maps, a pair candles, hand lotion, a zip baggie of peanuts and raisins, and a spool of orange duct tape. She found the object of her search. The paper had crumpled from being loose in her bag. “As you can see from my resume,” she said, extracting the page.

She handed it toward Anna, but Hans pulled it out of Rapunzel’s hands to read it before Anna could take it. He perused it while holding it at arm's length.

Anna asked Rapunzel, “What brought you to Seattle?”

“Oh, I wanted to get out and see the world,” Rapunzel answered. “I have a special ability to heal, kind of a magic power? And I felt that I needed to use my talent to help people. Seattle called to me. I sensed that I was needed here.”

Anna was fascinated. Rapunzel was completely serious in her statement. “Really?” Anna asked. “Because the sooner I get back on my feet, the happier everyone will be.”

“I’m results oriented,” Rapunzel stated with confidence.

“Great. You’re hired,” Anna said.

Hans made a choking noise. “Now, uh, just a minute, Anna. We should talk this over. Miss Sonne, if you don’t mind, we’ll call you later this afternoon with our decision.”

“It’s my decision,” Anna argued.

Rapunzel interrupted. “Maybe I could use the bathroom? And give you a moment?”

“It’s right through that door,” Anna said. She indicated the door nearby. Rapunzel picked up Pascal and slipped away into the washroom.

“Anna,” Hans huffed, “she’s a fruitcake!”

“She’s nice. And the agency wouldn’t have sent her if she wasn’t qualified. I like her.” Anna made herself as tall as she could in the recliner. “What do you care, anyway? She’ll only be here when you’re gone. You won’t even have to talk to her.” She stuck out her chin. “You can do what you want, now, without my sister holding you accountable.”

Hans realized the truth of her words. “Well then, what’s my problem?” he laughed. “Have her start as soon as possible!”

“Great!” Anna exclaimed, not happy but nevertheless pleased to win her point. They waited for Rapunzel to come out of the bathroom, but first, Hans responded to the knock on the front door that announced his half-brother’s arrival. The door to the bathroom opened just as Hans opened the front door for Flynn. Hans stepped out of the way. For a moment, the two doors interlocked at the knobs; a tug-of-war resulted between Flynn and Rapunzel, neither of whom could see the other. Finally, Rapunzel peered around her door.

“Looks like I’m getting in your way,” she noted, smiling. “Sorry. Let me let you in.” She let go of the knob and took a step back, so that Flynn could finish entering. Once he was inside the condo, she reopened the bathroom door the rest of the way and stepped out. Hans had moved out of the area near the front door to acquire his coat from the coat rack at the beginning of the interior hallway.

“Thanks, Blondie,” Flynn said, flashing her a dazzling smile.

Anna spoke up. “She’s my new home health care professional,” she informed Flynn while confirming the job offer to Rapunzel at the same time.

Flynn offered a handshake. “How are you doing? The name’s Flynn Rider,” he introduced himself.

“Rapunzel,” she said, giving his hand a firm shake.

“Wonderful. Now you’ve met,” Hans interrupted, keys and coat in hand. “No time to dawdle. The squash courts are waiting.” He gave Flynn a meaningful look and made shooing motions toward him. Flynn shrugged, turned around, and preceded Hans out the front door.

While the men were leaving, Anna asked Rapunzel, “How soon can you start?”

“I’ll need a few days to move in…” Rapunzel began to answer.

Her words stopped Hans at the door. “Move in? There must be some misunderstanding.” He stepped back in. “This isn’t a live-in position.”

“Oh, but the agency--” Rapunzel contradicted. She turned to Anna. “I thought you needed full time care. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to take the job unless I live on site.”

To Hans, Anna said, “Hans, I’ll take care of this. Go on to your squash game.” She wiggled her fingers in a goodbye wave. Hans exhaled a huff of dissatisfaction, but his desire to leave won out, and he left. Anna waited.

Rapunzel said, “You see, I don’t have a place to live at the moment.”

Anna held up a hand, a signal for Rapunzel to wait before saying more. She counted the minute off in her head, then said, “OK. By now they should be in the elevator down. I didn’t want him to pop back in while we were working out your employment details. I think the study will be the best room for you.”

“So it will be live-in employment?” Rapunzel clarified.

“You said yourself, you can’t take the job otherwise. I haven’t liked any other person I’ve interviewed for this. You’re my Mary Poppins.”

“I’m not exactly Mary Poppins,” Rapunzel denied.

“Oh, I’m not expecting a goody two-shoes,” said Anna. “I do think you must have flown in on a magic umbrella, though. You’re great. I think we’re going to get along. And whatever you can do, healing magic or whatever, to speed my recovery along, I’ll take it.” She motioned toward the couch. “Sit down.”

Rapunzel gave Anna an assessing look. “How long have you been sitting in one place?” she asked.

“All morning,” Anna complained, “doing interviews.”

Rapunzel shook her head. “You need to move around every hour. Let’s get you up, at least to another seat.”

“If you help me,” said Anna, “why don’t I give you a tour of the condo? I’ll show you your new room.”

“Is that going to be a problem with your fiancé?” Rapunzel inquired.

“I’ll talk to my sister at lunchtime,” Anna said. “Hans can squawk, but he’s a little afraid of Elsa. Flynn will support my decision, too. Flynn is Hans’s brother, and Elsa and Flynn are engaged.”

“So you’re both engaged to siblings?” Rapunzel asked.

“Hans and I are probably not happening,” Anna said.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK. He was exciting in the beginning, but now that I’m seeing him on a daily basis, I feel like I dodged a bullet by falling down some stairs.”

“Is that how you were hurt?”

“Yeah. It’s why I can’t live at home right now, too. The stairs.” With Rapunzel’s support to get upright, Anna hobbled on her crutches toward the part of the condo with her room and the soon-to-be-redecorated study. “Your room won’t have an attached bathroom with a shower, so you can use the one off of my room. Hans has his own full bathroom by his room, and there’s the half bath by the front door.”

“My home growing up wasn’t half this big,” Rapunzel said.

“Mine childhood home is four times this big,” Anna replied. “Of course, it’s a house. I know you said you were new in town. Do you have plans for Christmas? If not, you should have Christmas with us.”

Rapunzel’s face showed apprehension. “Um, Christmas,” she said.

“We celebrate Yule, actually. There’s still a tree and most of the same things,” Anna said.

“Can I decide later?” Rapunzel asked.

“No pressure,” Anna assured. “So here’s the room. What do you think?”

“It looks perfect,” said Rapunzel. “I think this is going to work out!”

 

* * *

 


	14. Fourteen

The holiday season brought families together, or reminders of being without family. Most people found winter wind and cold dreary. Elsa felt an affinity to winter, ahead of other people in that way, at least. She parked her Mercedes at Hans’s condo and then walked to pick up lunch for herself and Anna.

Flynn had asked Elsa not to text him casually during the day when it would distract him from his work. Since their texts were just as likely to be of a risqué nature as not, she respeced his request. With the holidays, he worked more, and often well into the evening. That could be expected, she guessed; lots of people who found themselves struggling with negativity at year’s end would have to fit their counseling sessions in the same way they fit in their Christmas shopping, squeezed in at lunchtimes and before the dinner hour. 

Often, Flynn would send her a message midday anyway, and so as she returned to Anna’s temporary residence at lunch time, her thumbs were tapping out a reply to Flynn about their evening plans. The handles of a plastic bag of takeout for Anna, hanging on Elsa’s arm, bit a crease into the elbow of her Prussian blue vicuna coat. She wished she had taken it off in the elevator. The condo building had their heat turned up, and even in a knee length suit skirt and 1940s style heels, she was overheated after the brisk walk to the cafe and back.

At the door, she slipped her phone into her coat pocket, untied the silk bow collar wrapping her neck, and took off her hat. She fanned herself with it since no one was watching. Anna would need a few minutes to get to the door to open it, and Elsa’s mind needed a few more minutes to settle. With her birthday looming, she found herself indecisive about spending the night at Flynn’s apartment. Home with Kai, Gerda, and her thoughts seemed like too much company. Kai and Gerda would leave her alone, but her thoughts would not, not even if she used Flynn for distraction.

On the other hand, falling asleep in someone’s arms and waking up to pleasant attentions were welcome when she had them. She would be a selfish girlfriend if she took that much without giving him more of herself. A selfish _fiancé_ , she corrected in her head. She had given herself a goal to pay more attention to Flynn and to Anna, and it wasn’t an easy goal to meet, but she planned to keep working at it until it made her a better person. The person her father meant her to be, someone to carry on after him.

* * *

Anna hadn’t changed clothes since the morning, but the cute Lululemon combo now looked unflatteringly stretched out, as if she had slept in the athletic wear. The couch, too, had a rumpled quality. Her afghan with the sunflowers lay draped over it. Anna hobbled back to it on her crutches and plopped down with relief.

Elsa covered over her concern with a smile. “Lunchtime!” she caroled.

Anna started to get up. She waved away Elsa’s insistence that she should stay on the couch. “I need to move around,” she said. She made her way to dinner table and into one of the high-backed chairs with some slow maneuvering.

Once the take-out was unpacked on the table, Anna asked, “Are you only having springrolls? Did you already have lunch?”

“This is plenty.” She picked up a springroll and bit through the translucent rice flour wrapper. She captured an escaped sliver of julienned carrot and popped it into her mouth after the bite.

Anna reached for her lunch, “You’ll be happy to hear that I hired my babysitter today after all.”

Elsa tried not to look too pleased, knowing it could set Anna off. Elsa didn’t want to make a fuss but she did let her relief show. “I feel a lot better knowing you’ll have help now,” Elsa said. “Which one did you pick?”

“Oh, you didn’t meet her. We interviewed her after you left today.”

“We? You and Hans?”

Anna, having just filled her mouth with spicy bahn mi, didn’t reply until she could finish chewing. “This is a good sandwich,” she commented. “Why didn’t you get yourself one?”

“I like springrolls.”

“But nobody likes you when you’re hangry. You’re not going to make it to dinnertime on carrots and cilantro.”

“They have shrimp in them, and peanuts. I’ll be fine. I’m watching my waistline.”

“You should get pho next time. Marrow broth has tons of glucosamine. It’s super nutritious.” She wiped her lips with a one of Hans’s linen napkins. “That season I picked coffee at the co-op, it was all I ate.”

“Yes, Anna. So Hans helped you decide on a candidate?” Elsa asked, bringing the subject back from the Anna’s tangent.

“He helped me decide, all right. He didn’t like her. He thinks she’s weird. But I think she’s great.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I think she’ll work out.”

“That’s good,” Elsa commented with hope.

“So you’re free now,” Anna said. “She said she could start immediately, so she will take me to my doctor’s appointment tomorrow. She’ll be here later today to start the physical therapy routine we went over together.”

“That’s great!” Elsa must have expressed too much approval, because Anna scowled. “That’s great that you found someone that you feel comfortable with,” Elsa rushed to add. “I’ll still be here when I’m not at the office. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy, little sister.” 

“You don’t have to,” Anna moped. “You could spend more time with your fiancé.”

“I already spend a reasonable amount of time with Flynn.” Elsa moved her chair as much closer to Anna as the table allowed. She leaned on the table. “Anna. What’s wrong?”

Anna made a face. “No one wants me around. I’m too much work,” she said.

“Who’s no one?” Elsa argued. “I want to be around you. I wish you could be home right now. Gerda and Kai miss you, too. They ask about you morning and evening.”

“It’s Hans,” Anna admitted. “We agreed that we could see other people, but he’s the only one getting any action at all now. I mean, I know it won’t be forever, but right now, it feels like he’s getting the benefit of the arrangement and I’m getting zip.”

Elsa’s mood darkened. “He’s seeing other women?” she asked.

Anna pretended to shiver. “Brrr! Elsa. That’s some ice coming off you. Don’t get mad.”

“You don’t have to stay here. Not one more minute,” Elsa started. “How dare he--”

“Elsa.” Anna raised her voice slightly. “He’s not cheating on me. I don’t like it, but that’s mostly because I’m…” she gestured impatiently at her leg brace. “We’ll work it out. Look, I’m going to be OK. I’ll have Rapunzel here. I won’t be as lonely all day, and Hans and I will work something out.”

“How can you be OK with it?” Elsa asked. Focused on her ire, she registered Rapunzel’s name only as a passing detail.

“I know you don’t like him,” Anna said.

“Anna, I can’t see how he values you if he’s not faithful to you.” She was agitated. “When you were just dating, I know you were playing the field, but he says he wants to marry you. What would he be looking at other women for if he’s says he’s found the one he wants to marry?”

Anna half-choked on a laugh. “Elsa, did you really just say ‘playing the field’? Have you been on an old sitcoms binge again?”

“Not exactly.” Post-coital cuddling in bed while watching Netflix on Flynn’s tablet was a world apart from Anna’s meaning. Dateless evenings used to mean sitting in the TV room at home, eating ice cream while Gerda smiled at _Happy Days_ or Kai chortled along with laugh track of _Full House_ or whatever old series was running on their favored cable channel. Flynn had never seen any of those sentimental television fantasies, and Elsa had felt a need to share them with him, to make up a little for the family life that he had not had. The lives of the characters in those old programs were foreign to both Elsa and Flynn. Teasing her with questionable seriousness, Flynn had compared her to glamorous Eva Gabor in _Green Acres_. The best match for Flynn that Elsa could do for retaliation was a suave, young Pierce Brosnan in _Remington Steele._

Anna talked over Elsa’s reverie. “Did you know that ‘playing the field’ comes from horse racing? Gambling on the races, anyway. We should go to Emerald Downs again. We were with Mamma and Pappa last time we were there.”

“If you’re trying to change the subject, Anna, it’s not going to work. I am not done with talking about the respect Hans owes you.”

“ _I_ am,” Anna said. “At least if you’re going to take that attitude. We’re doing what we -- that’s me and Hans, not you -- decided on. After Hans  & I get married, it will be different. Right now, though, it’s what works for us.”

“But it’s not working for you,” Elsa argued. “You aren’t happy.”

“That’s about me.” Anna’s tone was definitive. She stayed silent, frowning in a way forbidding Elsa from breaking the silence first. “Thank you, sister,” she said, at last, her words arched and precise, “for helping me get my head straight. My unhappiness with Hans being able to go on dates _is_ about me, not about him. Like I said: we’ll work it out.”

“I still don’t understand,” Elsa admitted. Standing up, she started toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make some tea. Can I make some herbal tea for you?”

“Sure, but I won’t need it to take a nap. I hate how I am doing nothing all day and still run out of energy,” she complained.

Elsa raised her voice to be heard even though she was in the kitchen. “You are doing something. You’re healing. That’s needs all your energy right now.” In a kitchen that had already become familiar to her, Elsa filled the electric kettle with filtered water and took enameled tins of Harney & Sons tea out of a cupboard. While the water heated, she stood at the doorway. “Flynn asked what I wanted to do for my birthday,” she said.

“Please say you didn’t tell him, ‘Nothing’,” Anna responded.

“I thought we could have a simple dinner, here,” Elsa replied.

“I don’t see why not,” Anna answered. “That’s a great idea. We’ll have a dinner party!”

Elsa waved her hands, warding off the suggestion. “No, no party, not on one day’s notice! Dinner. Flynn’s a fantastic cook. He will like having something to do. And no cake with candles.”

“I already ordered a cake,” Anna contradicted, “from Troubadour.” 

“No singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and no candles. Promise me,” Elsa warned, completely serious. The kettle clicked off, and at the sound Elsa popped back into the kitchen to brew their tea. When she returned with two steaming mugs dangling strings, Anna gave her an angelic expression.

“Alright,” Anna said. “See? Compromise can work.” 

* * *

 

Hans answered the door. His brooding countenance gave him a Byronic air, though whatever appeal that might have created for someone else, it was lost on Elsa. He let her in, his eyes still spearing her with resentment. Flynn sat in one corner of the couch, legs crossed, arms over the rests, looking completely at ease. He rose up when Elsa entered.

“Hello, Sweetheart,” Flynn said, taking her by the shoulders and planting a kiss on her lips.

“I’m surprised to see you here already,” Elsa commented. She smiled. “It’s early. And you, too, Hans? Early day?”

“We’ve both cleared our calendars,” Hans said, a slight growl to his tone. He was distracted. Casting his glower toward the side of the condo with Anna’s room, he stalked out of the living room toward his bedroom, leaving Flynn and Elsa alone.

“Clear through New Year,” Flynn expanded. “What’s the point in being your own boss if you can’t decide when to quit?” He caught her up in his arms. 

“Oh? I need to fly into Victoria next week. Now that you’re free we could make a trip of it.”

“On one of those tiny charter plains? I sort of had plans for us next week…”

“Can we talk about it later?” Elsa asked. “Where is Anna?”

“She’s helping the new therapist move in. They’re unpacking her boxes in her room.”

“Is _that_ why Hans was glowering?” Elsa conjectured.

“He’s not happy,” Flynn agreed.

Elsa kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll check in on Anna and be back out in a minute,” she said. She made her way toward Anna’s room. The door to the study was open, and Elsa looked in.

Anna was talking to a slight, blonde woman who was unpacking a duffel bag of clothes, but Anna interrupted herself when she saw Elsa. “Rapunzel, this is my sister, Elsa!” she introduced cheerfully. “Elsa, Rapunzel is my new home health care worker.”

The blonde was the young woman from the elevator, the one in a hurry. As she unpacked, her hair moved like a silk banner, and her body moved with agile strength. “Y-you’re… you’re Rapunzel?” Elsa stuttered, feeling as if she had been clobbered in the head with a frying pan.

Rapunzel put down the clothing she was folding so that she could extend a hand to Elsa. “Hello,” she greeted.

“I mean,” Elsa continued to stumble, “Anna told me she had hired -- but I expected someone more… less…” She gave up. “You’re Rapunzel?” she heard herself repeating. Close enough to shake hands was close enough to catch that scent again, the perfume of sunshine on meadow flowers. Elsa stepped in slightly, unconsciously following, after the handshake ended.

“Rapunzel just moved to Seattle from the other coast,” Anna said.

Elsa found herself unable to look away from Rapunzel’s green eyes, which kept hiding behind Rapunzel’s golden eyelashes. She had turned back to folding clothes, and Elsa sensed shyness, rather than evasiveness, in the way Rapunzel tipped her head down and her eyes directed toward her task. “What brought you to Seattle?” Elsa inquired politely.

“Just an urge to travel,” Rapunzel answered lightly. She shrugged as she spoke, downplaying the importance of her statement. “And luck.”

“Lucky for us!” Elsa agreed. Her voice was slightly too loud. “Anna… Anna really needed someone like you right now.”

“Yes, I did,” Anna agreed wryly, reminding Elsa of her sister’s presence.

Rapunzel finished with clothes. Stacking some boxes inside each other, she looked around at the small room. “Is there anywhere I could keep these for now? I think I should pack some things back up again to use the space better, but I’m not sure yet what.”

“Hans has a storage unit in the lower level,” Anna said. “They key is in the bowl by the telephone in the front room. Flynn can show you,” she said to Rapunzel.

“Let me help,” Elsa offered. She took a stack of nested, empty boxes while Rapunzel picked up one that was still taped shut. When Rapunzel was ready, Elsa led the way out. She made a beeline to the bowl on the side table and fished out the storage room key while balancing the boxes on one hip. Flynn appeared to take the boxes from her, but she waved him away. 

“We’re running down to the storage. It won’t take long,” she said.

Rapunzel followed Elsa out of the condo, and in the elevator down, they rode alone. “You must have been heading up to your interview when I held the elevator for you this morning,” Elsa said.

Rapunzel glanced up quickly at Elsa. She returned to picking at the tape on the box she held. “That was you? Thank you, again. I got off at the wrong stop and had to run back four blocks.” She laughed helplessly. “I guess I didn’t look very professional, shouting at you to hold the elevator.”

“No, no. You didn’t shout,” Elsa said. After a pause, because they still had several floors to go to the basement level, she added, “You made a good impression, really. I wondered if you were a neighbor.”

“I am now!” Rapunzel laughed.

“It’s such a small room. I hope you won’t be put off the employment by the housing situation. We can certainly work out better accommodations if it’s a problem.”

“Oh, I’m used to it,” said Rapunzel. “A small room. When there is a view, that’s all I need. And I don’t mind offsetting the housing by doing a little cleaning and cooking.”

Elsa showed her surprise. “Cleaning and cooking? You’re not a housekeeper.” The elevator chimed, and the door opened to the storage level. Elsa spoke over her shoulder to Rapunzel as they headed toward Hans’s storage unit. “You are a medical professional. That’s all you need to be doing.”

“Doctor Westergaard said it would have to be part of my care duties,” Rapunzel answered. 

Elsa saw the way the woman cringed, the way she hugged the box she was holding slightly tighter. “Don’t you let Hans push you around. My sister will be enough to handle.”

“Really, I like domestic duties,” Rapunzel said. “It won’t be any trouble.”

“If you _like_ cooking,” Elsa started.

“Cooking and cleaning. I really do like keeping a tidy home. Early mornings are great for baking. I like to be up with the sun. It used to give me a chance to do a shine-up before my… before my roommate was up.” Rapunzel carefully set the box on the floor when Elsa dropped the stack of empties next to an painted roll door with a number matching the key fob. “Doctor Westergaard did want me to wear a uniform, but Miss Anna gave him an earful over that.”

 _Only if it’s a French Maid’s uniform, with the lace frilled bonnet,_ Elsa caught herself thinking _._ “That’s completely out of line,” she muttered tersely.

“Sorry!” Rapunzel responded with a small gasp.

“Not you!” Elsa rushed to correct. “Not you. You’re fine. And please, we’re not formal. You can call us by our first names. If I hear myself called ‘Miss Arendelle,’ I will feel like a spinster in a Jane Austen novel.”

“Oh, I love Jane Austen,” Rapunzel gushed. Her posture eased with relief. “Do you read much?”

“Not as much as I should,” Elsa admitted. She rolled up the storage closet door. 

“I can never have enough books,” Rapunzel shared.

The storage unit was a space large enough to fit several pieces of large furniture, which it held in addition to a dozen anonymous crates and boxes. A dusty area indicated where the Queen Anne bed, now in the condo’s studio that was Rapunzel’s room, must have been stored. Elsa tucked Rapunzel’s few boxes, empty and sealed, into an open space on top of a sheet-draped cabinet.

“Have you been to the library? The architecture is a marvel.”

“Mm-hm,” Rapunzel confirmed. “I’ve been spending a lot of time at Central Library. It was helpful to have a computer to use. I’m lucky to have found this placement. Much longer, and I would have taken any job that started right away.” They headed back to the elevator after Elsa locked up the storage unit.

“Office temping?” Elsa conjectured.

“Part-time dishwasher, counter help at Ivar’s Acres of Clams, or clipboard donation-collector,” Rapunzel answered.

“Was it that bad?” Elsa felt concern. A cross-country move would be a large draw on financial resources, and she was aware that most people did not have much in savings, let alone her privileges. She would talk to Anna; Rapunzel might need an advance on her pay, and might not feel that she could ask for it.

“They wouldn’t have been my worst options. I’ve held some odd jobs! When I was putting myself through school, I once worked as a sushi platter for a specialty caterer. That was quite a uniform.”

“Oh? Did you wear kimono?” She made a sympathetic face. “Not dressed as geisha, I hope.”

“Not dressed at all,” Rapunzel corrected as they stepped into the elevator. She pressed the floor button. “I was a nude model, and the sushi was laid out on my body while I lay on a table.”

Elsa leaned back against the elevator’s brass rail. Her ankles had wobbled, not from the upward rise of the elevator.

“It was so cold,” Rapunzel continued, oblivious to Elsa’s blood pressure issues. “My nipples were as hard as ice, and I had chilled salmon sashimi surrounding them like the petals of a flower. There was pickled ginger in my navel, and a mosaic of fruit, fish, and cut vegetables all over my torso, stomach, and thighs. It was pretty, though.”

“I’m sure it was,” Elsa answered in a weak voice. She grinned, trying to look casually amused.

“I’m grateful to be able to really help someone, now. Your sister has a lot of energy. She’s going to heal fast.” Without a box to hold, Rapunzel wrung her empty hands together. She kept her eyes on the floor or the floor numbers changing on the progress display. When the door opened, she waited for Elsa to step out first.

Because Rapunzel, a step behind her, couldn’t see her face, Elsa took a deep breath and closed her eyes to collect herself. She didn’t dare let any of her roiling thoughts show, not when Flynn would was waiting on the other side of the door. She nearly jumped when Rapunzel put a hand on her forearm.

“Thank you for your help, Elsa,” Rapunzel said. Her eyes shined with empathy.

Elsa risked putting her hand over Rapunzel’s, though only for a brief moment. “My pleasure,” she said.

* * *


	15. Fifteen

“What That Old Black Magic Can Do”

Rapunzel reached past Elsa to open the door, saying, “Here, let me get that.” Her hair was a honey curtain sliding along Elsa’s arm, and for a brief moment Rapunzel was so close that Elsa could feel the summer-warm temperature of Rapunzel’s skin. Elsa nearly threw herself through the open condo door.

“Are you all right?” Rapunzel jumped forward to catch Elsa in her stumble.

“Ah, I, ah, tripped on the carpet.” Elsa quickly stepped out of Rapunzel’s supportive grip. Flynn had passed toward the coat rack.

Rapunzel said, “Thank you for your help with the boxes.” She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear as she spoke. Then she turned away and headed back toward Anna’s room.

Flynn had his coat in hand. “Ready to go, Sweetheart?” Flynn asked.

Elsa, watching Rapunzel walking away, turned a shoulder toward her fiancé. “Huh?” she asked. Her mental attention turned to Flynn on delay. Elsa had never taken off her coat, but she recovered her hat from where she had set it down. “Yes. Right. Where are we going?” She smiled winsomely and emitted a weak laugh. Flynn didn’t seem to have noticed her tracking Rapunzel’s shapely derrière.

She had to get herself under control, she thought to herself. Dinner -- they were headed to dinner, of course. Then afterward to Flynn’s apartment, to Flynn’s bed. She all at once felt the need to make up to him for the direction of her libido. “That is, did you have somewhere in mind?”

Flynn seemed excited to tell her. “I just heard about an aquavit distillery in Ballard that has a cafe,” he said. “They serve that pickled fish you said you like.”

“I’m not drinking aquavit by myself, and if you’re drinking with me, we’re not driving,” Elsa declared.

“Joe Metro will be our driver,” said Flynn. “I bet you haven’t been on a bus since you were a schoolgirl. There’s a bus stop two blocks from the place, and we can call a cab home. How does that sound?”

“Maybe we can skip the bus part?” Elsa suggested.

“We’ll book a ride to the place,” Flynn gave in easily.

“Actually…” Elsa said, “I have a sudden craving for sushi.”

“Shiro’s?”

“Let’s do the tiki bar.” She was feeling too effervescent for a serious dining experience.

“Good suggestion,” Flynn said. A deep, private booth would be better than a seat at the sushi bar. He had something he needed to tell Elsa. The timing wasn’t good, but the timing would never be good. “We can leave your parked car here and walk.”

Neither Flynn nor Elsa ate much to go with the saketinis that arrived at their table with quicker repetition than the nigiri from the kitchen. Ohana’s Happy Hour had drawn in a rowdy crowd, making orders slow and the space unsuitable for intimate conversation. After a few drinks, Flynn suggested they move on, and Elsa readily agreed.

They walked through misting rain toward Pioneer Square. Other pedestrians hurried through the damp night, but Flynn and Elsa strolled. By the time they reached Pike Place Market, where only restaurants and cantinas remained open, Flynn was wondering if he was going to be able to say what he needed to say without stronger liquid courage.

“Those umbrella drinks are wearing off,” he said. “Since we don’t have a real umbrella, how about getting indoors?”

Elsa leaned in to murmur in his ear. “We’re almost at your place,” she said. She wove her fingers into his and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Do you mind if we pick up a bottle at Saké Nomi on the way?”

“Not at all,” Elsa replied.

“I think we owe it to the rice wine gods after that Happy Hour hot saké,” Flynn joked.

The saké shop, with its premium offerings, made it impossible to leave without sitting at the bar for a tasting flight. Elite but unpretentious, it was an accessible kind of place that attracted connoisseurs and created enthusiasts. This night, a Frank Sinatra album set the mood. When a swanky song played on the speaker, Elsa’s back straightened. “Marilyn Monroe sang this first,” Elsa, lips against the rim of her cup, told Flynn.

The proprietor chatted with her about old movies while he poured the featured saké. Elsa explained that she wasn’t a movie buff, but had seen a lot of movie musicals because of Gerda. Flynn’s movie knowledge was more contemporary (from sneaking into multiplexes before he was old enough for other kinds of entertainment) so he didn’t contribute to the conversation.

Elsa was pink in the cheeks and Flynn felt mildly giddy when they left. Elsa was off balance as she walked. Flynn put an arm around her and kept her beside him while they walked uphill to his building. On the way, Elsa hummed and softly sang “That Old Black Magic,” the Sinatra song that had been playing.

Home, he started to put the saké away, but Elsa complained. “Aren’t we going to open it?” she asked. “That one was my favorite. Let’s drink it.”

Favorite out of eight “tastings” that were each a serving anywhere else, and Flynn estimated that her small frame couldn’t hold a lot of booze. He looked at her, roses in her cheeks and doing a fair imitation of sobriety. He couldn’t deny her anything. That was why he didn’t want to deny the truth about himself to her anymore. “I don’t have the right kind of cups,” he delayed, both the continued drinking and the serious conversation. He placed the large saké bottle on the counter.

Elsa sidled into the kitchen. She used the excuse to get into his space and press up against his back while he searched the dishware cabinet. “What about those?” she inquired.

“Highball glasses?” He shrugged. Elsa curled her arm around his middle and wriggled her hand under his shirt. He sighed at the play of her fingers over his skin.

She planted kisses across the back of his shirt, between his shoulder blades. “Close enough,” she murmured.

Thumbs on the plug cap, he popped open the saké bottle. “You’re sending me mixed signals,” Flynn answered. He turned around so they were face to face. He pulled her body close and ground against her suggestively.

“I want to drink,” she giggled.

“This is a side of you I haven’t seen,” Flynn commented.

“I could show you some more,” she sighed. She unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse with one hand, and tugged the bow collar until it came undone.

“We both have more to show each other,” Flynn said. It was as good an opening as any. Turning sideways, he poured an inch of sake in each glass and handed one glass to Elsa.

She raised it to her lips and drank half of the contents without stopping. She sipped at the rest. Flynn did the same, but his reason was less about enjoyment than about getting past inhibitions. “Elsa, we’re the real thing,” he started. “I know what I want--”

Elsa lifted herself on her toes and kissed him.

“These glasses are wrong, too, aren’t they?” Flynn took down a pair of shot glasses and filled them.

“Too small,” Elsa judged. She drank hers empty. “Ooh. These.” She pulled coupes forward from the back of the cabinet.

“What? Those are for serving ice cream,” Flynn laughed.

“You know they’re not. They’re for cocktails!”

Flynn picked up the bottle and read the label out loud. “June May Da--”

“Stop. That’s awful,” Elsa said, appalled but giggling. “Junmai Daiginjo.”

“I don’t think it’s a cocktail,” he joked.

“We don’t have the right cups,” Elsa insisted.

“I don’t have any cups like the ones at the bar,” Flynn countered. Elsa had probably had enough to drink.

Nevertheless, she poured the crystal clear saké into the cut crystal coupes. Holding hers by the stem, she sipped and licked the rim like a hummingbird in a flower.

There was huskiness in Flynn’s voice when he said, “You get extra sexy when you drink.”

She finished her saké and drank his, too. “Sexy like Marilyn?” she asked, her voice breathy and in a higher key. Lips plump and pouty, she started singing, “Happy Birthday to you… happy birthday to me…”

“It’s not midnight yet, birthday girl,” Flynn murmured.

“...happy birthday, Mister President,” she sang. She walked flirtatious fingers up Flynn’s chest.

“Did she really get it on with JFK?”

Elsa stopped. She sighed. “Poor Jackie. Cheating is bad. He _shouldn’t_ have looked at her _perfect_ ass.” She drew herself out of his arms and moved toward the end of the counter, but she stumbled, swayed, and had to catch herself. “I’m sorry, Flynn.” She turned around, too quickly not to stumble again. One hand on the end of the counter to steady herself, the other undoing the rest of her shirt buttons, she crooned, “I’m going to make it up to you.”

Flynn stepped in to catch her and guide her toward a place to sit. “Make up for what?” he asked, just to keep her attention on him.

“Marilyn Monroe… Eva Gabor…” She was still undressing. “Grace Kelly. For all the ladies… with their sexy--”

When he got her to the sofa, she sat for only a moment. Then she wriggled out of her skirt and stretched out with her back arched. She yanked her blouse off over her head. She threw it over the side of the couch. “I have a cup for you,” she said, pointing at her navel.

Flynn went back for the bottle. “With tequila, you do body shots. With saké, it’s a little different.” When he returned, he kneeled at her feet. “A, uh, client taught me this,” he said, still trying to say what he needed to say. He wasn’t proud of dating for money, and he knew it was pretty bad to have that confession as the least terrible thing he could tell Elsa. He gently eased off Elsa’s silk and lace. He brought her knees together so that her thighs formed a closed valley at her pubic mound. “It’s called _wakamezake_ ,” he said, doing a better job with the Japanese word than he had with the saké classification.

“Keep your legs together,” he instructed. He began to tip the bottle to pour saké into the cup of her body.

“ _Wakame._ That’s seaweed. Was your client Japanese?” she asked airily. She sat up partially with a sudden jolt, a second before the saké wet the mouth of the bottle, and almost kicked Flynn in the face with her boot. “Wait! We can’t!” She flopped back down on her back. “It’s cultural appropriation!”

Flynn wasn’t about to stop. He curled his left arm around her legs to prevent her from separating them and poured with his right hand. Elsa made a sound of surprise as the cold saké filled her valley. She made a throatier sound when he bent his head down to drink.

There was plenty more in the bottle, and the flavor of the rice wine was delicious. When the second pouring of saké was gone, he licked the porcelain “cup” clean. He let her legs part so that he could catch every drop, of saké and more, sucking at the moonlight pale hair that had floated in the saké like seaweed in a tidal pool.

“Your clients really tell you everything, don’t they?” Elsa murmured between noises of erotic pleasure.

Flynn had better things to do with his mouth than answer.

* * *

 

Elsa unzipped her boots. She nearly toppled over while trying to take them off. “I don’t know if I can make it up the stairs,” she said. Sitting on the sofa, she tugged her footwear off her feet. She ran her hands up and down the upholstery. “Come up here. This sofa has worked for us before.”

Flynn took her hand and tugged her up to her feet. “I want you in my bed,” he said with smoldering eyes. “We can help each other get up. Hmm,” he corrected, “I guess we do that sober, too.”

Her veins still felt hot with lust. Lightheaded, she pressed back against him. When he broke away, she followed him, stumbling up the stairs to the loft, where they both pulled at Flynn’s clothes on their way to slithering into bed. On his fluffy mattress she felt like she was floating in a cloud, bolts of lightning flashing through her from his touches and kisses. His lips were everywhere.

She couldn’t tell him to stop; she didn’t want to stop feeling his hot mouth on her. Her inhibitions seemed to have been shed like her clothes. She knew it was the alcohol, and she didn’t care. She found herself twisting her body around, climbing down his torso before she gave it any thought, putting their bodies head to toe and herself in a position to give him oral sex.

Flynn still had enough presence of mind to sit up for a moment and open the drawer in the bedside table. Elsa put a hand on his shoulder to urge him back down. “I don’t need it,” she murmured. “Let’s do it without.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I think.” She didn’t get another attempt at performing fellatio, because Flynn put his body in a parallel line with hers again. Her assertion to forgo a prophylactic jumped their lovemaking ahead to the union of their bodies. Flynn seemed to want something different, however, and they remained side-by-side, but with legs entangled. He breathed words into her ear, but with the pounding of her blood she couldn’t make them out.

When he was inside her it was not as deeply as when she rode on top. For a moment her mind flashed to how they must look together. She had seen the position, in a pornographic photo -- not something she had looked for, but it had caught her attention, and she often thought about it: two women, _cuissade_ , their shimmering nakedness and tangled hair glossy with what was implied to be sweat. Lingering intoxication gave her an excuse to linger on the mental image, even with Flynn’s lips tickling her skin, and her arousal grew as real sensations blended with imaginings.

Flynn was usually very, very good with timing his climax with hers or soon after. This time, she didn’t stay focused, and while the sensation was a pleasurable as ever, she didn’t tumble over the edge. He needed longer before he released, too. After, he held tightly to Elsa while he rode out what Elsa presumed was a feeling of being overwhelmed in the moment.

With a sigh, he raised himself up on his elbow and looked into Elsa’s face. “You are on the pill, aren’t you, Sweetheart?” he asked. His expression held real concern.

“Of course I’m on birth control. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.” Her tone was petal soft. “I’m not trying to get pregnant,” she said. She was still drunk enough to be truthful without thinking twice.“I just wanted to know what it felt like.” It didn’t feel much different, but she was glad the evidence was in his bed, not hers. It would have been too embarrassing, knowing that Gerda would wash her bedding, or be curious if she saw Elsa doing that laundry.

He kissed the top of her head. “Good,” he said. Rolling onto his back, he pulled her into the crook of his arm and rubbed his cheek against her soft hair. After a deep breath, he said, “My mom wasn’t married to my father. So no kid of mine is going to be, y’know…”

Before he could finish, Elsa turned, raised her face, and kissed his mouth silent. She kissed him for a long time, willing the word -- bastard, illegitimate, unwanted -- out of his mouth so he would never say it. She didn’t know any other way to tell him that the circumstances of his birth didn’t make her value him less.

When the kiss broke, she slid down and pressed her face against his chest. His arms went around her; hers wrapped over his, with her hands cupped against the curve of his shoulders. They held each other without talking.

When she broke the calm silence, Elsa offered a small confession of her own. “I miss my parents. So much. I wish I could know if they would be… happy with my decisions.” She could hear her loud heartbeat, as if it echoed in her head.

“Your parents would be proud of you. They wouldn’t be anything less than proud,” Flynn said.

“I wish you could have met my father,” Elsa said.

“I have mixed feelings about that. I’d be terrified.” His fingers combed through her hair. “I’m sorry that I won’t get the chance to be terrified,” he said in a softer voice.

“Flynn. Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

His body relaxed, and Elsa thought he might be relieved that she had asked a question he had himself. He surprised her by saying, “We’re not rushing things. It’s all happened at a natural pace. Don’t you think?”

“Don’t most people date for at least a year before planning to marry?” Elsa asked, curious about how he would answer.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I had some long relationships, where I didn’t feel that getting married was the next step. With you, I knew. Why wait some arbitrary time when you know it’s right?”

“It is right. Isn’t it?” she murmured. “The real thing.” She kissed the rise of his pectoral muscle. “We’re doing the right thing.” Still muddled, her mind was drifting, leaving her words to drift like a boat without an anchor.

“I’m getting out of my line of business.”

It took her several beats to make out what Flynn said to her in reply. “You’re closing your practice?” she asked. “You don’t want to do what you’re doing anymore?”

“That’s right,” he said. His voice sounded odd. “I think -- I think I need to make a change. Turn a page.”

Elsa was glad she knew what to say, from all the times that Anna had changed direction in life. “I’ll support you. Whatever you want to do.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“I mean that in every way. Don’t be concerned about money. I have plenty.” Elsa couldn’t even generate surprise at what she was so plainly saying. Sake and sex had, apparently, put her superego to sleep. Elsa, rubbing the tip of her nose against Flynn’s chest, inhaled his scent.

“Sweat and lust,” Flynn warned in an ironic tone. He rubbed her back.

“You always smell good, Flynn,” Elsa countered. “Clean.” She kissed his chest. Her fingers played through the light hair that seemed to enhance his muscular contours. “I like how you take care of yourself.” She walked her fingers up his athletic physique, toward his chin with its neatly trimmed goatee. “How comfortable you are in your body.”

“Comfortable,” he repeated. He wrapped his fingers around the hand caressing his chin, holding it as he guided her back up on top of him.

“Mm-hm,” Elsa confirmed.

“I prefer getting… comfortable,” a wriggle down the bed got Elsa where he wanted her to be, where his hand could move between her smooth thighs. His voice had become breathy. “Inside _you_ ,” he finished saying. His fingers knew the way.

She sighed as he pushed into her heat and wetness again. She lifted herself up from his chest and began to rock her hips against his palm. Her eyelids dropped down, and with eyes nearly closed, she set the pace of her pleasure. “I’m so greedy,” she said. “You should let me… I should… more…” Holding a thought together had become impossible. Flynn’s low, deep hum of approval made her shiver. She peeked through her lashes, expecting to see him watching her face. His gaze was, instead, on her bobbing breasts, which made her smile and feel less self-conscious. As she smiled, his focus did rise up to her face.

When the familiar wave of pleasure hit, she leaned down until she could kiss him, moaning against the corner of his mouth as she pulled his lower lip between her own. He moved his fingers out and in, so slowly now that it drew out the orgasm. She paid attention to his technique. When, after finishing, she could speak, she asked, in a whisper, “How does it feel to you?”

“When you come?” he murmured back. “Nice,” he said.

“But, _how_ ,” she insisted. “You always know. Can you feel me?”

“Your muscles clench, Elsa,” he said quietly. There was a quality to his answer of surprise that she didn’t know. He rubbed his nose against hers, and then he exhaled a small laugh. “Nice to know that you’ve never faked it,” he said.

“I’ve never had to,” she replied. “You’re patient with me when I’m not getting there.”

“I think you have that backwards,” he said. He grinned, but his grin suddenly became a yawn.

“Oh!” Elsa complained around her own yawn, “You got me doing it!”

He defended his drowsiness. “I blame the booze.”

She rubbed yawn-induced moisture from her eyelashes. “Before we sleep, I need a shower.” She pushed out of his arms, sat up, and scooted toward the edge of the bed.

“I’ll follow you in a minute,” he answered.

Though she didn’t linger in the shower, because in spite of the refreshing water, she continued to yawn, she was done and toweling off when Flynn entered the bathroom. He carried a bundle.

“You changed the covers?”

“No good sleeping on the wet spot,” he said. He stuffed the clothes hamper with the sheets. “I’ll be up soon.” Before she stepped out of the bathroom, Flynn caught her with a kiss on the cheek. “Drink some water, and go to sleep.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said without thinking. It made an awkward moment between them. She had never addressed that comment he had made to her once, the one that implied that she wanted “daddy” role play. Never addressed it or denied it. “I don’t mean…”

Flynn’s answer was to kiss her again. “Go to bed, Sweetheart.”

She giggled from the discomfort of the moment and left. Why was it that just when everything seemed normal, something had to come up to throw her off equilibrium? She felt off balance, not just physically wobbly from the saké or the sex.

When she got to bed, she curled up on her side. She was glad for the laundry-fresh sheets, and grateful to Flynn for thinking practically. Yet, because she couldn’t fall asleep, she was still lying awake when Flynn came up the stairs. She heard him take in a deep, slow breath, and for some reason she couldn’t explain, it made her hold still and pretend to be sleeping.

He sat on the bed. “I’ve been trying to tell you,” he said quietly. “That counts for something. Doesn’t it?”

She kept her breathing steady in spite of her quickened heartbeat. She listened for more. At the same time, her mind raced, reviewing the night, wondering what she had missed him saying.

“I want to be the man you think I am. I can’t be,” he stated frankly, conversationally. “Maybe it’s better that you didn’t hear what I was trying to say. My identity may be fake, but you and I, what we have, it’s the real thing, and I’ve never had the real thing before, not unless I stole it. Or cheated someone out of it. Maybe, yeah, I’ve been… I’ve been lying to you, but I wasn’t conning you, and I didn’t lie about the big thing.”

He shifted his weight and lay down beside her. His hand rose to her shoulder and rested there. “I love you, Elsa. I want to be with you.”

She acted as if his touch had woken her. Making the small noises of being pulled out of sleep, she rolled partially back and turned her head toward him. She blinked sleepily, and rubbing her eyes, mumbled, “Love you.” Afraid he would know she had been awake, she didn’t make eye contact with him.

He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. They snuggled in together, fitting their bodies into shared space.

Elsa decided that she would try later, in the morning when her head had cleared, to understood what he had revealed to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank Sinatra ["That Old Black Magic"](https://youtu.be/bymLrAXm5Qk)  
> Tori Amos [Jackie's Strength](https://youtu.be/gSjsDkJOqhM)  
> Marilyn Monroe [Happy Birthday](https://youtu.be/EqolSvoWNck)  
> [Ohana](http://ohanabelltown.com/) Tiki Bar  
> [Sake Nomi](https://www.sakenomi.us/)


	16. Sixteen

In the morning, they made love simply, without foreplay or talking. Later, Flynn was knotting his silk tie, the finishing touch of his three piece suit, when he broke the silence. Elsa sat on his bed, half dressed while fixing her hair.

“We sure were drunk last night!” Flynn punctuated the comment with a laugh. Elsa looked up at him and her lips pulled into a small smile. She didn’t say anything. He prompted, “We said some crazy things.”

“I don’t really remember,” Elsa said in a wan voice. “Should I?”

Flynn opened his mouth and shut it again. Uncomfortable, he finished with his tie, and then he looked around the room for something to keep him there while Elsa continued dressing.

Her clothes were casual, designer jeans and a sweater that she kept along with other clothing changes, in Flynn’s closet, for when she needed them. The sweater was angora, in a dark toned blue hue like a storm cloud, with mother-of-pearl buttons along one shoulder. Her jeans were charcoal grey, one tone lighter than the boots she slipped on over her narrow, sock-clad feet.

“We left our cars at the condo,” Elsa reminded.

“Are you ready? We can get coffee on our walk there,” Flynn suggested with mustered cheer.

His attempts to come clean to Elsa had fallen short of the mark. He concluded that Elsa’s quiet mood coincided with the day being her birthday, and how it tied into mourning for her parents. He hoped -- selfishly, he knew -- that she wasn’t rethinking her support of his career change. Of him.

Hans had had a lot to say about it, when Flynn had declared to Hans that he was dropping the “counseling” angle. Flynn had mollified his half-brother by pointing out that news of his engagement put a damper on his client list already. Flynn’s special attention didn’t seem quite as special anymore, not when society pages depicted Flynn and Elsa as besotted with each other. Flynn had long relied on a romantic approach with clients; an attentive manner and some gentle hand-holding were all most of his lonely ladies needed on a semi-weekly basis. It was an commodity he could no longer sell without the client feeling secondary to a fiancé.

Flynn couldn’t keep doing it, regardless. He couldn’t sit listening to a sad woman blathering on about her daily disappointments, a disinterested spouse, distant children, and bland career without his mind wandering. It had often wandered before, but before, it had wandered into ways to get into the woman’s panties and pocketbook. Now it wandered, not only to Elsa but to mundane things, grocery shopping lists and contemplations of whether he flossed often enough. Other times, if he held a client in his arms during a “therapeutic cuddling” session, while he whispered into her ear he saw himself as the cheap con-artist he was, instead of the serious mental-health professional that Elsa thought he was.

If he couldn’t live up to her image of him, he thought, then he had to turn himself into someone else, as simple as that. He had been shaping himself around her dreams since the moment they met. His problem was that the usual M.O. was not enough. Time with Elsa left him with a longing for her to see him, really see _him_ , but he wasn’t sure what that meant. He wanted to tell her about his past, he wanted her to know the pathetic truth of it, but at the same time, he didn’t want her to look at him differently. He wanted the light in her eyes and the sparkle in her smile forever.

Coffee meant deciding on one of half a dozen reasonable choices within a short walk. Flynn guided their path toward Pegasus Coffee. They sat down with ceramic mugs.

“Say, how about we both play hookie today and go somewhere?” Flynn suggested in an attempt to brighten Elsa’s mood.

Elsa sipped her mocha, looking out the window with an expression on her face of unspoken thoughts. “I’m not going into the office today. I’m going with Anna to her appointment.”

“Isn’t that why you hired that caregiver?” he asked.

Elsa raised her eyebrows as she said, “It’s Rapunzel’s first day. It makes sense that I would accompany them, to be sure everything goes smoothly. Anna hates hospitals, and I know she’s going to be, well, _extra_ Anna over it.”

“Should I go with?”

“We can meet for lunch,” Elsa suggested. “Pick something. I’ll tell Anna it was your idea and the four of us can go.”

“Four?” Flynn asked. “Hans?”

Elsa made a face, but she quickly brought her mocha up to hide it by sipping. “Five, if you want to invite him. I meant Rapunzel. It wouldn’t be polite to leave her by herself.”

“She probably has some moving-in still to do,” Flynn countered. “She deserves some time to herself off the clock, don’t you think?”

“She’s new in town. I thought she might like… but you’re right, it wouldn’t be fair to assume she wouldn’t want the time for her own things.” Her cup empty, she folded her hands over each other on the table. “Should you call a ride? I’d like to head over.”

“Yeah. Sure. Of course.” He tapped at his phone. “Done and done.” Flynn wondered if he was imagining it, or if Elsa was being distant. “Are you OK, Babe?” he asked.

Elsa answered with a slight shrug of one shoulder. “It’s today. Just today.”

He held her hand across the table until their ride arrived. A matter of minutes later, their driver let them out at the sidewalk in front of Hans’s building. Flynn followed Elsa into the building and up to the condo. He enjoyed the view as he walked behind her. She looked fantastic in jeans.

 

* * *

 

Anna was up but still having breakfast. When Elsa entered the condo, Anna pushed herself up from the breakfast table and half hopped, half hobbled quickly toward Elsa, one hand managing a crutch and the other pushing a corner of Belgian waffle with jam into her mouth. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

“Birthday kiss!” she announced, then smacked her lips against her sister’s cheek. “Happy Birthday!”

Elsa smiled. “You smell like strawberry jam.”

“You smell like coffee.” She looked around. “Where’s my coffee? Hans was making coffee.”

Flynn offered, “I’ll put a fire under him.” He headed to the kitchen.

Anna started back toward her breakfast. “Help me back to the table,” she urged Elsa. “Do you want a waffle? Rapunzel is making Belgian waffles,” she said while Elsa helped her ease back down into a chair.

“Oh no, I’m fi--” Elsa started.

As if on cue, Rapunzel exited the kitchen with a waffle, topped with a bounty of out-of-season fruit and whipped cream, all on a china plate. She put it down at the setting next to Anna’s. She pulled out the chair, with a gesture for Elsa to sit. “I hear it’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” Rapunzel said brightly.

Hans came out of the kitchen, Flynn a step behind him. They brought small, glass mugs of dark coffee in silver holders. Hans fussed cheerfully in arranging them on the table. He took a dish of sugar cubes from Flynn and set them in the center next to a tiny pitcher of cream.

Flynn popped a quick kiss onto Elsa’s lips before taking the the empty chair beside her and sitting down. “Birthday kiss,” he said.

To Elsa’s surprise, after Hans leaned in between the sisters to put coffee in front of Anna, he turned toward Elsa. “Birthday kisses?” he echoed in delighted tones. “May I?”

Elsa shrugged and emitted a small laugh. She didn’t want to make a scene, so she submitted to the dry kiss Hans pressed against her cheek. She glanced at Flynn and noticed the woodenness of his smile.

Anna commented, “Hans is in a great mood. Tell them why, Hans.”

Hans pet Anna’s hair. He straightened after kissing Elsa. “Well. As it happens, I had a call with some very good news this morning,” he announced.

“I didn’t think you took calls before nine,” Flynn commented.

“Yes. Well.” Hans lifted his chin. “The content made up for the early hour of the call,” he defended. He sat in the chair opposite Anna. Sipping at his tiny, hot mug of coffee, he continued, “As I may have mentioned a time or two, I’ve had something of a flirtation with the idea of offering my intellect and expertise to a wider forum.  To take that next step, to harvest the bounty from the field of my experience and offer that fruit to the hungry masses.”

Elsa looked around at the others, wondering if any of them were finding meaning in Hans’s pomposity. Rapunzel, still standing beside the table, caught her eye and her bewildered smile quirked upward in sympathy. She left to the kitchen. Flynn watched Hans, and his eyes had narrowed. Anna dipped a piece of bacon into a pool of maple syrup on her plate, stuck the crunchy bacon into her mouth, and chewed with appreciation.

Hans seemed to notice the lack of comprehension. His manner turned prim. “In short,” he said, “my agent has an offer.”

“Agent?” Elsa asked.

“It’s a radio show,” Anna said with a sweet smile. “Hans is going to be doing a podcast. Isn’t that perfect?”

However preoccupied with her own thoughts, Elsa considered the announcement. “Will you be leaving private practice, too?” she asked.

“Heavens, no,” Hans declared. “I would be a fool to turn my back on such well-established credentials. Not to mention, leaving my clients adrift in an unkind world, cold to their desires.”

Flynn cleared his throat. Anna stopped eating; her head turned from Hans to Flynn, and back.

“I take it you don’t support Flynn’s change of career.” Elsa heard the irritation in her voice and was sure everyone else did, too. Wishing she hadn’t spoken, she poked at her breakfast without eating.

Hans, also with the face of someone who regretted speaking out, blustered, “I merely meant regarding myself and my own practice.” Rapunzel returned from the kitchen with an egg white omelet for Hans, and he turned his attention to it. She also brought a waffle for Flynn before disappearing again.

Elsa changed the subject. “I was thinking,” she said to Anna, “that Flynn could drive us to your appointment and pick us up after.”

“That’s great. I hate that creepy parking structure under the hospital. Thanks, Flynn.”

“Happy to do it,” Flynn replied. Looking for a fork that wasn’t there, he got up to retrieve one from the kitchen.

Rapunzel stood at the counter, taking bites from breakfast for herself while she wiped down the tile and returned ingredients to the refrigerator. She jumped slightly with surprise when Flynn walked in. It occurred to Flynn that Rapunzel, moving around the kitchen cleaning up after Hans, broke familiarity and routine, even more than Anna had done by moving in to Hans’s condo. Something about her set off alarm bells in his head. He couldn’t pinpoint why.

She seemed like the type to wear her heart on her sleeve. When she saw Flynn, she smiled in a way that seemed genuine. He could see a flash of sincere friendliness in those big green irises. He guessed that she smiled at strangers that way, open-hearted from the get-go. Her overall wholesomeness came across in her body language as well as her appearance. She didn’t wear any jewelry, her hair -- a perfect honey-gold unusual in someone past teens -- was natural or a very good dye job made to look natural, her fingernails were short, she wore very little makeup, and her clothes were simple and quasi-professional. It took him a moment to register it, but Flynn realized that Rapunzel’s buttoned up blouse and A-line wool skirt were handmade. Not bespoke, just handmade, as if she sewed her own clothes. They fit well.

“Came for a fork,” he explained, pointing past her toward the cutlery drawer.

She stepped out of the way as she opened the drawer. “Sorry.”

Curious now, Flynn continued his surreptitious survey of Rapunzel while he plucked out the fork he needed. Her shoes were Dansko clogs, good but not this season’s. They would fetch about fifteen bucks in a second hand shop. Which was probably where she had bought them, he intuited. She wore them with the kind of tights that would be found at any department store, including Target.

She asked, as if trying to be helpful, “Does anyone need anything else? I can make more waffles?”

He was keeping her from her own meal, he registered. It was probably getting cold. Rapunzel’s breakfast seemed to have been cobbled from making the rest, such as the waffle batter ends that made a small, irregular waffle, a tiny amount of scrambled egg that may have been the yolks left out of the omelet for Hans, and some slices of banana like the ones in Elsa’s bounty of fruit garnish. Next to her plate, Rapunzel had a cup of tea, the tag and string looped around the cup handle, instead of the gourmet coffee everyone else was drinking.

“Elsa wanted me to invite you to lunch with us,” he offered suddenly. “Later today.”

“She did?” Rapunzel lit up.

“If we’re not impinging on your personal free time,” Flynn said. Rapunzel had brought in that bag tea herself, he concluded. Hans, if he stocked tea, would only have artisanal looseleaf in his pantry. “And by invited, I mean, it’s on me. Birthday celebrating and all that.”

“OK. That will be nice.” Her smile was the sun coming out from behind a spring cloud.

Flynn wondered what it must be like to be such an open book. Maybe it went with the caregiving career. “Alright,” he said, “it’s a plan.” Fork raised in a salute, he left Rapunzel to her breakfast.

* * *

 

Anna picked up on an unexpected thing in the first five minutes of the drive to First Hill. Keeping her expression as blank as she could, she watched Elsa bumble and verbally trip over everything Elsa said to Rapunzel. Elsa kept up an awkward conversation from the passenger seat, with Rapunzel sitting in the back beside Anna. Flynn, driving, interjected periodically as if he were part of the conversation, apparently oblivious to the dynamic between Elsa and Rapunzel.

By the time Flynn dropped them off at the front doors of the medical facility, Anna decided to be a stinker. She waved goodbye to Flynn, then turned to her sister as soon as the fiancé was out of the circle driveway. “I don’t need two of you,” she announced, “fussing over me for the next two hours. Elsa, you should take a walk over to Pike with Rapunzel and do some shopping or whatever.” She turned away and started toward the front doors.

Elsa responded with a nervous laugh. She walked on one side of Anna while Rapunzel matched her on the other. “What are you talking about, Anna? We’re here to meet with your doctor, with you.”

“I really don’t need that? And anyway, you know they’ll keep me waiting for almost an hour in the waiting room, and waiting again in the office once I’m in a gown. I’d rather not have you hovering.” Rapunzel looked as though she would join in in protesting, so Anna said, looking at her, “I can text you when I’m finally being seen. That will give you plenty of time to come back and meet my doctor before we go to lunch.”

Rapunzel pushed the button for the automatic door. “I just thought I should--” Rapunzel started, following Anna through, ahead of Elsa. “On my first day...” She zipped ahead to call the elevator, then hurried back to Anna. They all walked the few steps back to the elevator, and waited.

“Elsa, it’s your birthday.” Anna directed her whine at her sister. “Please just go have a little fun? Take a morning off? Please, it will make me happier if you do.”

Elsa’s lips opened in protest and her eyebrows went up. “Were you planning this all along, Anna?”

“It’s easier,” Anna said with a smirk, “to shoo two off you off together.” The elevator opened. Anna stepped in, but she raised a crutch to bar both her sister and Rapunzel from getting on. “I’m fine from here. Now go. Go!” She leaned over to punch the button that closed the doors, leaving Elsa and Rapunzel behind.

Rapunzel, biting her lip, looked at Elsa for direction. “What should we do?”

Elsa crossed her arms. She sent a weak smile Rapunzel’s way before her chin dropped. Looking downward, she said, “I’m sorry, I thought Anna might be a troublemaker today, but I didn’t expect this.”

“Don’t feel bad!” Rapunzel insisted. “I’m just wondering if she means it.”

“Oh, she means it,” Elsa replied.

“Then… maybe we could take her suggestion?”

Elsa raised her eyes. “Would you like to get coffee somewhere until she calls us back?” Her breath was so shallow, she could have been holding it with little difference.

Rapunzel’s smile beamed encouragement. “Sure!” She turned to head toward the front doors, watching Elsa to confirm that they were leaving together.

Elsa didn’t waste any time in following. Moving in step, she and Rapunzel headed out to the street. “So… so, where do you like?” Elsa asked.

“I don’t know this area very well,” Rapunzel answered. “I remember a big art supply place, and I think a bookstore, and Starbucks? It’s a nice day,” she said, although the sky was thick with gray, low clouds, and along the streets, the bare tree branches shook from chill gusts of wind. “Could we walk around? If you don’t mind?”

“There are a couple of good bookstores,” Elsa supplied. “The one with the cats doesn’t have coffee, but it’s not too much out of the way to go there first. I don’t at all mind walking,” she said with a flirtatious laugh.

“Great! We can have an adventure!”

Elsa was possessed with the desire to get away from the gazes of strangers, and the residential streets would make a more scenic walk from First Hill to the core of Capitol Hill, so she led Rapunzel away from Broadway and onto one of the avenues. They walked at a mild pace over old sidewalks, cracked by the roots of trees pushing up from beneath. Traffic circles at every small intersection discouraged all but local traffic, and the time of day meant that few residents were coming or going from their homes.

“So,” Elsa drew the word out to three syllables, “are you liking Seattle? Have you had a chance to see much of it?”

“Oh, I love it,” Rapunzel gushed. “The lakes, the view of the mountains, the people.” Her eyes met Elsa’s.

Elsa, captured by the way the dappled sunlight illuminated Rapunzel’s eyes, opened her mouth to answer but instead yelped as she tripped over the broken concrete.

“Eek!”

Rapunzel tried to catch her. She succeeded only as far as getting her hands on Elsa’s waist and pulling her sideways; they fell together onto a soggy rectangle of lawn and leaves. “Oop!”   

“Are you OK? Are you alright?” asked Elsa, getting back onto her feet. She began to reach toward Rapunzel but stopped when she realized that her hands were covered with dissolving leaf litter.

Rapunzel sat up on the wet patch of yard. “Oh no, I’m sorry! I’m so clumsy!”

Elsa wiped her hands off on her hips so that she could help Rapunzel up. “I’m the one that tripped to begin with,” Elsa countered. “It wasn’t your fault.” She saw the mud on Rapunzel’s coat and the damage done to Rapunzel’s skirt. “And I’ve ruined your clothes. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

Rapunzel examine the diagonal tear across her knee. “Don’t worry. I can fix this. It’s wool. I can patch it with a bit of felt.” She shrugged. “In the meantime...” The crochet flowers on her purse were pinned on with safety pins. Rapunzel removed several of them. She pinned one to cover and close the rip in her skirt,  and the others to make it them all look like intentional embellishment.

“You’re very creative,” Elsa commented.

“Just practiced,” Rapunzel responded. They resumed walking, both going more carefully over the uneven sidewalk. “Growing up, I had one dress that I wore every chance I got. It was purple taffeta, with organza sleeves and lacing: a princess costume that was donated to us after Halloween one year. It was my treasure.  But that didn’t stop me from climbing and playing in it. I had to learn how to fix it. After I outgrew it, since I knew how to sew, I was able to take it apart and make it into a keepsake.”

“I… never would have thought to do that,” Elsa said. She thought about the dresses she still had in a stack to donate, and how she always had whatever clothing she saw and liked.

Rapunzel shrugged again, one shoulder going up near her ear as she smiled sweetly. “You’re so elegant,” she said with a friendly laugh.

Elsa giggled. “I’m covered in leaves,” she said. “You’re the one that’s beautiful.”

Rapunzel blushed a fetching shade of pink. “Thank you,” she squeaked out.

Elsa was sure she was a matching pink, if not glowing red. She began walking more quickly. She looked straight ahead, but kept up small talk. “Our winters must seem odd to you,” she said.

“I think I like how it’s sort of gentle,” Rapunzel answered. “I’m used to snow before the winter solstice, feeling like I’m chilled all the way through.”

“It doesn’t snow often here,” Elsa said. She sighed. “Except in the mountains.”

Rapunzel took a few fast steps to catch up to walking beside Elsa, instead of a stride behind. “Anna said there was a big storm when you were kids. Snowpocalypse,” Rapunzel was completely serious, “she said everyone called it.”

“It was only as bad as it was because of surrounding circumstances,” Elsa said softly. Louder, in conversational tones, she continued, “Seattle shuts down in snow. There aren’t enough snow plows, and no one can go anywhere because the streets don’t get cleared or salted. They’re icy and dangerous. That year, Anna and I stayed home from school and spent all day in the garden, in the snow. We made forts. Mine was a snow palace, with snow creatures all around to guard it.”

“That sounds magical.” Rapunzel listened with rapt interest.

“We were playing too rough, and Anna got hurt. Papa knew an ambulance wouldn’t be able to get up our hill, so with Anna bundled up, he carried her out. My father was a very capable man.” She didn’t like where her thoughts were going: her father, forever unreachable now, and the memory of her sister, still as death, being carried away in his arms. “Tell me about your family,” she said to redirect the conversation. “Do you have any siblings?”

“I grew up alone,” Rapunzel had a hesitation of reluctance in her answer, “but I don’t know if I’m an only child.” She took a few more sashaying steps, hands closing and opening as if she were grabbing for the right words to continue. “I had a pretty strange childhood,” she said finally, as if making a joke. “Leaving home for the first time was a big step. But I’m so glad I did. I learned a lot about _a lot_ of things.”

Without thinking, Elsa declared, “I’m glad you did, too.”

Before she could add something to make her statement more casual, Rapunzel replied with a sincere, emphatic, “ _Thank_ you.” She had taken the declaration as a compliment. “So where do we go from here?” Rapunzel asked.

Elsa blinked. “Huh?”

Looking up at a corner signpost, Rapunzel pointed to the street name. “Pike Street. Do we turn here?” Rapunzel asked.

“Oh! Oh, yes, um.” Elsa gestured to the left. “We can go this way. Let’s go this way -- the bookstore is a little farther on, but there are shops along the way.”


End file.
